


The Taste of Flowers on My Tongue

by satoshi413



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (And by illness I mean vomiting flowers), (a variety of) Hanahaki Disease, Accidental Voyeurism, Angst, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hand Jobs, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, More tags as I go, Mutual Pining, Parasitic Plant, Pining, Porn With Plot, Sleepy Cuddles, Slow Burn, Smut, because of the plant, mild body horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-04-20 20:48:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 65,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14269239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satoshi413/pseuds/satoshi413
Summary: A new spin on the concept of hanahaki, set somewhere in S1 of Voltron, with a definitive Klance flavoring.During a mission, Lance is accidentally exposed to the spores of a strange alien plant. Despite constant assurances that his body will fight it off, Lance finds, to his horror, that the plant has taken root in his lungs. To make matters worse, Lance is crushing on Keith big time. Lance's heart is being torn in two; it's unknown how this plant will affect humans, and although Coran and Allura assure him that it will die in time, it becomes obvious to him that it won't. Terrified that he's dying, Lance struggles to come to terms with his feelings, and the sudden and sometimes painful changes his body is going through.This fic is complete, but I will be adding a smut-only epilogue ♥





	1. Reminiscent of you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Big thanks* to my beta-readers:  
> •Nirinai,  
> •Dockers,  
> •Birbs,  
> •Outlandish  
> You guys really keep me enthusiastic about my writing and helped nudge me to actually post it where others can read it. So readers, you have these 4 to thank for this existing!

The planet of Teswillon was beautiful, Lance had to give it that. The skies were a beautiful shade of violet filtering through the leaves, a wistful color that made Lance close his eyes and take a deep breath, almost able to pretend that he was home, on Earth. His brow furrowed slightly. If he just...concentrated a little bit, he could almost hear the sounds of the ocean, the soft roar of the tide that he knew so well, the slow rolling sound that would, forever, mean home to him. In that moment, the wind blew, a sudden gust that rushed through the multicolored leaves of the thick forests around the paladin, swirling around him. To Lance, it was almost a soft echo of the waves, crashing in his mind. But the illusion was short-lived as the heavy, almost perfumed scent of the jungle around him returned once the wind had passed. Literal clouds of perfume hung heavy in the air, and Lance reluctantly allowed the daydream of the ocean to slip away, the mental illusion of ocean-salt replaced by scents so thick that even his suit’s filtration system couldn’t get it all out. At least it smelled nice. Lance sighed.

This wasn’t home. In fact, Lance might never see Earth again. Homesickness lingered in his stomach as he once again resumed scanning the jungle for anything matching the vague, confusing description he had been given by Coran. But his mind wandered as his eyes strayed over the thick greenery, thoughts of home still twisting around him like smoke. The paladins were looking for a _specific_ flower, but turned out that the jungles of Teswillon were _chock full_ of flowers. The jungles themselves were certainly more colorful than Lance expected--the trees pale, like birch trees, but wrapped in flowering vines of all sorts, the bushes and stalks of brightly colored, thick-petaled flowers exploding in the undergrowth. Even the plain dirt where they had originally landed their lions had been bespeckled with tiny flowers of bright colors, like minuscule diamonds scattered on the ground.

The sound of Shiro’s voice over their comms cut through Lance’s almost trance-like reminiscing. “Any luck yet, team?” He sounded disgruntled, and Lance could understand why. Lance had pretty much forgotten the flower that they were actually looking for, having spent the past...hour or so staring at nothing but flowers. But it was important, so he kept trying.

“I’ll be honest,” Lance heard Hunk’s voice through his helmet, “I don’t think I even remember what I’m looking for anymore.” Hunk gave a shaky sigh. “Everything looks the same.”

“We’re looking for a tear-drop shaped, multi-colored flower,” Shiro replied patiently, “It should be bent over, like a snowdrop, and Coran said the stem is a very pale green.”

“Indeed! The Akarway Blossom is rare in the universe, and Teswillon is one of the few planets where it thrived. It should be easy to spot, though. The petals change color based on how close you are--they reflect the light, you see, catch it, almost like a crystal, and then--” Coran’s rather long-winded explanation of why the flowers changed color shot mostly over Lance’s head, but he was once again armed with the knowledge of what the heck they were looking for, so he forged onwards, trying to keep an eye out for a color changing flower.

“Remind me why we’re doing this again?” Keith’s voice was dry and irritated, but it still grabbed at Lance’s attention, making his feet suddenly unsteady and his breath rush out of his lungs. The knee-jerk reaction set Lance’s jaw on edge, and he scowled into his helmet as he replied, perhaps harsher than the small complain warranted.

“Uh, you know, because its a _very important_ ingredient for the healing pod’s magic space juice? Duh? Isn’t that right, Coran?”

“The most important ingredient, actually. The Akarway Blossom is what binds together the various healing agents, and the flower itself has some powerful healing properties itself. The Castle used to have a healthy supply of the blossoms, but that last attack knocked out the hydroponics section, and the blossoms are _very_ tempermental. I hadn’t managed to get them to crop up seeds, before the blossoms gave up the ghost!” Even the ever-cheerful Coran sounded slightly sad at that, remembering the loss of the flowers.

“Don’t worry, Coran. There was no way you could know that the ‘ponics could go down in that attack.” Shiro’s voice was steady and comforting, as per usual. Coran’s response wasn’t words so much as a thoughtful ‘hmm’ and then the line went silent once more.

Lance had hiked another fifteen minutes before an idea occurred to him. “Hey, if we have a hydroponics, how come all we eat is space-goop?!” he demanded.

“Lance, what do you think the goop comes from?” Hunk asked, a bit exasperated. “I’ve tried to cook the veggies that come out of that place, and unless you really _really_ like eating, like, _literal_ leaves from trees, they taste much better coming through the goo-dispensers.”

“Like, we talking fresh-off-the-tree leaves, or been-sitting-under-a-tree-all-fall leaves? Because that’s a _very_ different flavor composition, buddy,” Lance shot back, but his attention wasn’t really on the conversation. He saw a flash of something in the distance, and froze, hand splaying as his bayard materialized, ready to trigger it and start shooting at a moment’s notice. But nothing happened.

Hunk’s reply was only dimly heard past the suddenly loud beating of Lance’s heart, adrenaline making his ears ring. But still, nothing happened. Then Lance took a step forward, eyes straining towards the direction he had seen the flash, and was rewarded with seeing it again--something in the distance, shifting. But when he stopped, he saw nothing. Just...more flowers. He held onto his bayard just in case, and stepped towards the flashes, ears straining for any sounds of movement.

“I don’t wanna alarm you guys,” he murmured, “But I just saw a flash of something. I don’t know if we’re alone in the jungle or not.” There were some worried sounds from the others.

“Be ready to back off and retreat if necessary,” Shiro advised, and there was a pause. “...I’ve got your location. Pidge, looks like you’re closest to Lance. He’s to your southeast. Sending you the coordinates. Be ready to go to his aid if something happens.”

“Roger that,” came Pidge’s smart reply.

Lane crept forward a bit tensely, worried for a moment, and then let out a massive sigh. “Don’t worry everyone. I figured it out. I,” he paused, savoring the words, “Just found our Akatay-bloom or whatever that we’re looking for. Huh. Weird, yep, definitely changes color.”

“Akarway Blossom,” both Keith and Pidge corrected at the same moment.

“Coran, how many flowers do we need my man? Looks like I found a veritable grove of them.” Lance bragged, stepping towards the flowers he could see. They were...beautiful, actually. So beautiful, as Lance stepped forward, eyes locked onto the shimmering, multicolored flowers that hung delicately from pale, almost-white stalks with the barest hint of spring green coloring them, that he didn’t see anything else. So beautiful that they kept his attention, even as his foot caught on something.

Coran’s response of “As many as you can carry, but leave some to grow,” was heard just before Lance fell--hard. The breath in his lungs rushed out as he collided with the ground, and then he yelped as he felt something _sharp_ stab through the thin suit underneath of his armor--in one of the few weak points where the heavy plating didn’t cover. Pain blossomed from the wound, and he flinched, grabbing at his arm and cursing.

“Lance! Are you alright?!”

“Yeah, no worries, just tripped a little, maybe cut myself.” Lance pushed himself up and checked the wound, and winced. “Ow--maybe not as good. There’s a...oh god, a thorn? Sticking in my arm. Cut right through my suit. _God_ I’m bleeding, too. Pidge, please hurry? And we need to grab some flowers too...” Lance breathed out sharply, cradling his injured arm as blood beaded around the dark thorn, rolling down his skin hotly. His eyes turned to the plant he landed on--tiny blue flowers surrounded by thick thorns. He shuddered, trying not to look at his arm, but found his eyes on the thorn inside of his arm. His eyes widened and he felt slightly faint.

“I’ll be over in a jiffy,” Pidge assured him, “Don’t move too much, try to stay put. I’ll be there. Should take just a few doboshes to get to you.”

“Yeah. I don’t think I want to move around. I didn’t see it before, but there are these spiky plants all around the grove. They blend in really well. Be careful when you get here.” Lance said, eyes still on the thorn in his arm. Blood was welling up around the wound, and there was a deep ache already starting. Lance closed his eyes and tilted his head back, taking a deep breath. The sweet perfume of the flowers, at least, was pleasant. He inhaled again, feeling the pain of the injury fade a little as he focused on his sense of smell instead. Deep breaths, McClain. Don’t panic.

“These flowers smell really nice, guys,” He said into the silence, feeling a sudden need to fill the silence. Shock, probably? Lance had taken a few hits here and there, and usually right after an injury he felt strangely numb. This was pretty similar to that. Accepting it, Lance took another deep breath and stood, trudging towards the beautiful Akarway Blossoms, figuring that he might as well start harvesting the plants. The sooner done, the sooner he could get back to the castle, and hopefully have some of that magic/highly advanced Altean healing juice applied to the wound.

“How do you know what they smell like when your filtration system keeps out everything?” Pidge asked, curious. “You didn’t take off your helmet, did you?”

“What? No. I’ve been able to smell the flowers the whole time. There are like, these clouds--literal visible clouds of like, pollen or whatever, just hanging around. I thought they’d be everywhere. But whenever I walk through, my helmet smells like flowers.”

“You walked _through_ a cloud of pollen? Hmm. I avoided them. Better safe than sorry; who knows what kind of things alien flowers could do to a human?”

“Worrywart,” Lance said, carefully digging into the dirt and foliage around the roots of a second blossom. “Its just flowers. I almost wish I could take them with me. They smell great. Would make great perfume, too!”

“Of course you’d be thinking of perfume,” he heard Pidge say--not over the helmet, but in person, as she stepped out of the trees and towards the grove of flowers. “Huh. How interesting. They really do refract the light through the petals. And this is a fairly clear area--they must grow here because they need direct sunlight...How’s your arm?”

“I’ll live,” was Lance’s only reply. He was feeling fairly lightheaded every time he thought about the thorn, and each breath, now heavily laced with the thick scent of flowers, was almost too thick to be satisfying. He felt like he was drowning in the sweet scent, which filled his lungs, and almost made his throat burn. But Pidge didn’t seem to notice his predicament, most of her attention on his arm in concern until he told her to hurry it up and help him with the flowers.

Pidge, unlike Lance, was able to look down and deftly avoid the large-thorned plant that Lance had fallen into, and joined him in uprooting several of the flowers--about two thirds of the grove, although Pidge was very picky about which ones they could take, and from where, and how many, so that Lance had to step delicately through the flowers to pull up specific ones. It was hard going with his arm, which was still throbbing dully at the back of his awareness, and Pidge did most of the actual hard work of digging up the plants. Lance was grateful, because he was feeling distinctly dizzy.

Pidge cradled the many blossoms in one arm, like an over-sized alien bouquet, and helped to guide Lance with the other. He felt distantly grateful for the help.

The rest of the paladins exited the thick, lush jungle and were waiting where the lions were parked, and Hunk greeted Pidge and Lance with a cheer. Lance offered a shaky smile, although he couldn’t help his eyes sliding over to where Shiro and Keith stood, waiting. Shiro looked openly concerned, and even Keith seemed to be upset. Lance’s reassuring smile was met with a huff, but Lance was too off-center to really care. He stepped into the Blue Lion’s cockpit with a sinking feeling. Could he even fly the lion straight? “Hey guys, I think I’ve lost a lot of blood, or that thorn was coated in some crazy alien poison,” he confided, pressing a hand to his forehead. “I’m not feeling too hot.”

“Yeah,” Pidge supplied, “I pretty much had to help him the whole way back. Damn it, Lance, I knew we should have just come back later for the flowers!”

Shiro’s face popped up on his screen, looking concerned. “Lance? That could be pretty serious. Are you able to pilot your lion?” Lance was strangely transfixed by how Shiro’s nose wrinkled in concern, his eyes locked on where the normal skin met with the scar, before he blinked dazedly, realizing that he was spacing out. Lance forced an easy laugh.

“Me? I mean, yeah, I’m only the best pilot ever.” Despite his bravado, though, Lance looked down at the controls with some concern, and then let his head sink back, reaching out in that still only half-familiar way to the Blue Lion, pulling on their connection. “Blue, you think you can help me out here?” His voice was soft, his eyes tightly closed as he asked the question. The response was a little comforting: his mind was wrapped in a cool, soothing presence, which eased away some of the fog in his thoughts. The controls seemed to jump practically into his hand as he reached out, and the presence lingered faintly in his perception as Lance followed the other lions shakily out of orbit and back to the castle.

Flying one handed was difficult. Flying one handed while the world spun around him from lightheadedness was almost impossible. But flying with the Blue Lion’s comforting glow in his mind, almost like the ghost of a teacher or mother just behind him, ready to take over if things went wrong, was simple. Lance found that his eyes had closed halfway to the castle, and by the time the Blue Lion landed in its hangar, his skin was pale and damp with sweat. The other paladins found him fainted in his seat, arm oozing blood...but his good hand still loosely wrapped around the controls.

\---------

“Is he gonna be okay?” Hunk glanced worriedly between the healing pod where Lance was currently floating, almost serenely, and Coran, whose brow was furrowed as he read the vitals from the pod. The thorn--a wickedly sharp black talon almost as long as Hunk’s forearm, still stained with Lance’s blood--was inside of an Altean device that vibrated furiously, scanning the thing for possible danger. “I mean, these pods have the flowers now, they should be able to heal anything, right?” The big paladin was shifting from foot to foot nervously, feeling somewhat helpless. Shiro, Allura and Keith had all gone to transplant the blossoms, and Pidge was currently frowning at Lance’s damaged suit and helmet.

Coran brushed a finger along his mustache, more of a nervous gesture. “Hmm. Well, I’ll be honest with you, Hunk. These readings I’m getting are contradictory. I’ve got to wait for the scan on the thorn to finish but--ah,” He was interrupted by a soft beep from the scanner, and instantly all of Hunk and Coran’s attention turned towards it. Coran’s eyes flicked over the Altean runes, and then shook his head, confusion passing over his features. “That’s...odd.”

“What is it?!” Hunk demanded, eyes darting back to Lace, who looked so vulnerable in the healing pod. “Is it--was it poisoned? Is he--”

“No, that’s exactly it. The thorn isn’t venomous. At all. But Lance’s vitals show some sort of--foreign contaminant. I think the pods should have enough essence from the previous blossoms to heal him, but I can’t quite figure out where the contaminant came from. Its a bit spread out at this point, and too weak to really scan unless I find where it entered his bloodstream...” Coran trailed off, still squinting at the readouts. Hunk looked almost helplessly away from Lance, and caught sight of Pidge, who was fiddling with Lance’s helmet and still muttering to herself.

“ _Aha!_ Coran, do you think some of those ‘perfume clouds’ Lance talked about could have been the source of the contaminant? His suit’s filtration system is damaged.” She pulls out one of the filters gently, and Hunk instantly sees the small hole in the mesh. “Not to mention the electrostatic precipitating cleaners seem to have been jammed. Probably by whatever damaged the sieve...” Her brows met over her glasses, and she continued fiddling with Lance’s helmet. Hunk’s heart sunk.

“So whatever that stuff was out on that planet, Lance was breathing it in completely unfiltered?” He ran a hand through his hair unsteadily. 

“No, it looks like the UV was still working, so I think most harmful stuff would have still been burnt up. I _knew_ when Lance said he could smell the flowers there was something wrong.” Pidge slapped the helmet down onto a table, making the various equipment rattle.

“Hmmm, if he breathed in something...let me think. That’s a whole different section...” Coran turned back to the readout, scrolled up several paragraphs , and scanned it, his gloved finger tracing over the holographic screen, and then jabbing accusatory at whatever he saw there. “Aha! Correct once again, Number Five! It looks like Lance has inhaled some sort of...spore? That chemical compound, where have I seen it before?” His eyes squinted, and his hands were once again stroking his mustache.

“Spore? Like some kind of mushroom? Aren’t some of those like, poisonous?” Hunk’s knowledge of mushrooms was that most of them were delicious, and the rest killed you. And, to be honest, when it came to alien plants in general, the latter seemed to be true the majority of the time.

“No, like I said, nothing venomous in his system. But it could be potentially dangerous depending on the...oh! Oh. Silly me! I should have recognized this immediately!” Coran zoomed in on a section, cross-checked it on another screen and laughed in relief. “It’s just a Haixian heart-lily! Hah! Well, good! The pod should heal his arm wound fairly quickly, just a varga, and then he’ll just have a bit of a cough for a quintent or two, nothing serious at all!”

Hunk grinned nervously. “I don’t know what that is, but you’re sure?” Hunk was not a master of alien plants outside of the herbs that he made a point of studying from the castle’s library, and he’d never read anything about Haixian anything, but Coran was a pretty knowledgeable guy, altogether, and his visible relief was somewhat calming to Hunk. “What is this Haixian heart-thingy anyways?”

“Of course! Just took a minute to get the old noggin to remember, of course. No, I wouldn’t worry much at all. He’ll be a little rough around the edges for a bit, but no serious damage should come from it. Ah, I remember the first time I saw a Haixian heart-lily. I’m a bit surprised it was growing on Teswillon. They aren’t native to the planet, but they _are_ a beautiful plant and I wouldn’t be surprised that someone brought seeds to a garden planet. Smell _beautiful_ , but nasty to breathe in the pollen, which Lance must have. They were cultivated by a race called the Ixari on planet Haixia because of its...interesting properties. They had a symbiotic relationship with the lilies, and it was an important part of their culture and religion. Some races were more compatible with the lilies than others. Alteans, for instance, could host the plants, but had to maintain a _very strict_ mindset--our mental and magical abilities tended to either starve or overfeed the flowers. I’ve got no real data on humans other than what the pods have picked up, but your bodies are less hospitable to the spores than even Alteans. Unlikely to progress past even a small illness.”

Hunk made an interested noise, feeling his usual curiosity about alien planets and cultures rising as Coran spoke about this culture. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the way Coran said the word ‘host’, but otherwise the plant seemed harmless, and he felt his earlier panic fading into just gentle concern for his wounded best friend. He quashed the thought that people died from simple colds and flu down on Earth. Earth didn’t have Altean healing magic on its side.

Nodding to himself, Coran double-checked the readout, assured Hunk and Pidge that the pod should have patched Lance up in just a varga, and then excused himself to help with the blossoms. Hunk heaved a sigh of relief, and decided to use the nervous energy bubbling in his veins to go cook something that _wasn’t_ space goo for when Lance woke up, and left Pidge to repair Lance’s armor.

\---------

“So, you’re saying I’m infected by some sort of parasitic space-plant?!” Lance’s cracking voice was loud enough to echo down the hallways of the castle, and Allura winced slightly at the volume. Lance swallowed thickly, aware of his swollen throat and the dull, raw ache there. Instead of waking from the healing pod feeling like a brand new man, he had stumbled out, still feeling faintly dizzy, achy all over, and very much like he had space-flu or something. His hands were thrown up in the air, and he was working his way up to a Lance-tantrum soon, and he knew it. But Lance was not good with being sick. He hated it, and although he put up a good front, there was something distinctly frightening about the thought of _parasitic space plants._

“Lance, calm down,” Allura ordered, her brows lowering. Lance sighed dramatically, but lowered his hands. “Coran has done extensive scans of you and the spores while you were in the healing pod, and he is familiar with the plant. Your human physiology should reject the spores within a few quintents. You have told me about some of your earth diseases: this should be no more than a human cold to you. Honestly, this is probably the best-case scenario. With your suit’s filtration damaged you could have come into contact with much worse.”

The way that Allura’s face darkened made Lance think that, you know what, perhaps the princess was right. And it was easy enough to think of the tickling feeling in his throat as _just-a-cold_ and not a creepy space plant eating him up from the inside. He shivered, and then cleared his throat a little self-consciously. Perhaps some of his thoughts showed on his face, because Allura stepped a little closer, and put her hand on his shoulder comfortingly, concern crossing her face. Lance just smiled, and then allowed his grin to settle into his usual flirtatious fare, slapping his hand on hers with a flourish. “Aw, princess, I think you’ve fallen for me! Don’t worry, the brave paladin will fight off the space-cold!”

Allura chuckled, and Lance released her hand, lingering where he stood after she had left, massaging a temple with a hand. Space-colds. Jesus. He probably should go get some rest; the ship had absolutely no movement to it while it floated in space, but Lance felt as if he were on an _actual_ ship, the deck swaying beneath his feet, and movement brought the faintest wave of dizziness with it.

Lance did plan to rest. Eventually. Hunk had whipped up some real, solid food from some of the stores. Lance didn’t really feel hungry until Hunk was beaming, setting down a plate of steaming (blue) pancakes in front of Lance with a huge grin. Then the hunger hit him like a truck, and Lance hardly tasted it until the end, when he paused to savor the flavor. They had some sort of sweet alien butter from a previous planet they had traded with that Hunk treated like a hidden trove of gold, and were soaked in a dark tree sap that was essentially maple syrup. Hunk watched on with a fond smile as Lance wolfed the food down.

“Hey, buddy,” Hunk said, pausing to pick up the now empty plate. “You really had me worried there. I’m glad you’re okay.” He rested a large hand on Lance’s shoulder, and Lance turned to offer a shaky grin at his best friend. Hunk must have been upset--Lance and Hunk had been fast friends since they first met. And Hunk’s heart was always on his sleeve. When Hunk was upset, it showed in his tensed shoulders, his unhappy expression, the tone of his voice. But when he was happy, the world practically glowed with the smile. And just now, Lance felt that glow, and felt almost bad for making everyone worry.

“You me both, Hunk. I was pretty concerned myself. The princess says that I’ll just have a space-cold for a bit, though, and then I’ll be right as rain. And...” his voice grew a bit raspy for a moment, and Lance frowned, clearing it. “Maybe we should keep a closer look on the filtration systems. Just in case.” Hunk’s hand tightened on his shoulder, and he only nodded.

\--------

The space-cold (Lance was desperately referring to it only as that) got worse before it got better. By the end of the first evening, Lance was worse for wear. He wrapped himself up in blankets and settled himself in the common room, not really wanting to be alone. It was easy to ignore the faint pain in his body and the dizziness when he was joking around with his friends. He had sat on the couch with Hunk and Pidge, watching various space-dramas. Lance enjoyed trying to guess what they were saying, named every on-screen character with ridiculous names, and tried (and failed) to figure out various alien bits of cultural importance that more or less flew over their heads without a translator. He also tried to ignore the coughing fits that would crop up now and then.

“’Look, Alfonse! We cannot run away from our townhouse with our space-bug carriage! Sir Hizzington will surely find us out!’ Oh, now she’s pulling out that mirror again, gotta check your make-up before your husband finds out about the affair--” Lance exclaimed, lilting his voice upwards in an attempt to match the three-eyed alien’s tone of voice for the dialogue. He stopped abruptly as his throat tickled, and he choked for a second, before coughing, groaning afterwards.

“No dude, she’s totally using it to check behind her. Like for traps or an ambush,” Hunk said, elbowing Lance lightly. “She does it every time she says that one word--’far-glang’. Its gotta be connected.” Hunk shot him a sympathetic glance, but didn’t comment on the cough. Lance had been coughing all afternoon, and it was slowly getting worse.

“’Farglein’ is the Mithrussian word for ‘call’ or ‘contact’,” Allura’s voice was both puzzled and amused. Lance wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing in the doorway, a cup in each hand, and turned to shoot her a wave. “That...object in her hand is a communication device.” Allura approached and handed Lance a delicate-looking teacup, a second one in her hands. The liquid steamed invitingly, and he accepted it eagerly, feeling a twinge of gratitude--he hadn’t asked for a hot drink, but Allura was just thoughtful like that, he supposed. Even if it was gross Altean “tea” it was still hot and soothing for the throat.

“I told you so,” Pidge said, “There aren’t _buttons_ in a compact mirror, Lance.” She had a smug look on her face. Lance merely shrugged and turned his attention to the tea.

He took a sip, and sputtered a bit. It wasn’t gross Altean stuff at all! It was honest to god real tea! He shot Allura a wide-eyed glance. “Allura, are you for real? Is this for realy-real tea? Where’d you find this?” He sipped again, savoring the familiar flavor. It came with a wave of homesickness, and rode on memories of his mother doing the same thing--whenever he was sick, always tea, tea, tea. With honey, to soothe the throat. He blinked back sudden tears of nostalgia. “Have you been holding out on us?”

Allura blinked, surprised, and then smiled. “I’m glad you like it, Lance, but it wasn’t my idea. I was making my own drink, and Keith made yours. He suggested it would help.” Lance tried to keep his face straight as those words sent a twinge through his very being. The tea suddenly seemed much sweeter, and he felt heat suffusing his fingers where they touched the cup. Because the cup was hot, obviously. Keith was a prickly bastard, that was sure, but there were times--like this apparently--where he was oddly thoughtful and sweet. And it was so undeniably _Keith_ to do something like send Allura with a hot drink for Lance, rather than drop his lone wolf act and bring it himself.

“So Keith is the one holding out on us!” His voice felt a little stiff in his own ears, but Lance was fairly expert, at this point, in switching gears so quickly from the fond, sometimes _highly_ intrusive thoughts to his normal boisterous persona. Hunk gave him an odd look, and Lance took a sip of tea--too quickly, and he winced as the hot liquid burned its way down to his belly. “I’ll need to find out his source. Can’t have Keith hoarding all the sweet alien tea to himself.”

Lance was quiet for the rest of the drama, claiming he needed to rest his throat, and now that Allura was here, and could more or less explain the plot, it was less fun to make up the story as it went. Instead he held the cup in his hands tightly, long after he had drained the tea and it had gone cold in his hands. Keith had been right. The tea had helped. But now Lance’s throat, instead of being ticklish and irritated, was now tight. It--he was homesick. Terribly homesick. He ended up leaving before the drama finished. He left his cup in the kitchen, and started to make his way to his room.

_‘I could take the long way; that would take me by the training room.’_ There was no direct moment when Lance had decided to follow that thought, that whim. It was just like his legs decided on their own that he would be taking the scenic route to his room, despite his excuses of being tired and wanting to sleep. He knew why he was going, even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself. And maybe, if he was right and Keith was training--seriously, when did Mullet-Brain ever _not_ train?--maybe he could thank him personally.

Lance didn’t go into the actual training room though. He stepped into the main entry room, and stood by the viewing port, above the room proper, and looked down at the furious red blur below him. God, he was envious of Keith’s raw fighting ability. Despite Lance’s claim to the title of sharpshooter, there was something _graceful_ about melee fighting, no matter who was doing it. Shiro’s movements were usually sharp, rigid, disciplined; Lance would bet money that he had some sort of martial arts training. Pidge’s movements were swift and cunning, moving at the same frantic speed of thought that her genius mind did. Hunk fought with overbearing strength and a sort of awareness of himself and his body that, had Lance not known him for so long, would have been surprised to see in the larger boy. But Keith. Keith fought with all the intensity and edge of desperation as if his life depended on it, all instinct and fury. And it never failed to have the wild animal’s grace in it.

He watched Keith because he was jealous, he told himself. Because they were rivals and he needed to stack himself up against him. That...was what he tried to let the others believe at least. That was as close as Lance felt comfortable with admitting that perhaps there was something more motivating him, and turned his thoughts away. He stood there, watching, until Keith finished the training routine and started towards the exit. Then Lance turned away and padded to his room, clearing his throat.

\----------

It had to get worse before it could get better. Lance had told himself that the past two evenings. Three days--quintents--since he had inhaled the ‘spores’. And boy, did it get worse. The illness progressed from faint cold-like symptoms to a full-out fever. Lance had wandered around the castle, alternately fuzzy-headed and delirious, pausing to be caught in racking coughs that never seemed to calm the irritation in his throat, his lungs. Hunk had nearly driven himself up a wall trying to mother-hen Lance. Shiro had all but ordered him to stay in his room. Pidge had synthesized medicines and vitamins to try and make him feel better.

And Keith. Maybe it was just Lance’s brain, but Keith was almost the most unbearable of the group. He never outright said he was concerned, or made overt gestures to help Lance. But when Lance woke up from a fitful slumber, in his own bed (he must have fallen asleep in the lounge again) and made the pleasant discovery of another steaming hot cup of tea on the bedside table, he knew that it had been Keith who had brought it. Perhaps even more disturbingly domestic, Keith had known _when_ to leave the tea, so that it was still hot. Or when Lance dozed off in random places, and found himself back in his room every time. Or when Lance had shuffled to the bathroom from his seat on the couch in the lounge, and when he returned to find a small bowl of food-goo, somehow magically thinned and warmed, almost like soup. He had accused Hunk of it, but his friend had denied it. But Lance knew. Cheeks flushed-- _it’s the fever, of course_ \--he drank the cup of tea and then fell asleep again, dreaming of home. In his dreams, his mother and family were around him, wrapping him in blankets, propping him with pillows. But it was Keith who brought him tea.

Keith’s sudden intrusion into Lance’s dreamscape signaled the tipping point between lucid and delirious. His dreams were muddled, and mixed, smears of colors and half-formed thoughts that seeped out of the walls of the dreams he found himself in and dripped onto him like colorful rain. His family, his friends, the alien planets they had been one, it all started to blur into each other. And around it all crept vines and roots, before, with a feeling like a sudden intake of breath, everything _bloomed_.

The flowers were beautiful.

\----------

After the fever broke, Lance felt...different. More tired, for sure. Fragile, perhaps, was a word that one would use, but certainly not a word that Lance would use to describe himself. No, he was just tired, his poor body working over-time after the illness. But finally he was done with sitting in bed, done with the fever, and while he still felt compelled to clear his throat here and there, there wasn’t the impending threat of coughing up a lung anymore, and the team welcomed him back warmly.

The _first_ thing Lance did was rush to Blue’s hangar. The Blue Lion was a powerful, sentient, magical machine made from highly advanced Altean engineers, that had survived for perhaps 10,000 years hidden away on Earth. But Lance felt anxious to have left Blue alone for so long, and he had never really gotten to thank Blue for bringing him back safely. He thanked his lion with soft words, and a thorough inspection, buffing out scratches, tightening bolts, and in general soaking the poor thing with his gratitude. Blue’s eyes glowed faintly as he worked, and he felt as if she appreciated the sentiment, at the very least.

After smothering his lion with affection, Lance had sought out his armor, unsure of the condition it would have been left in, only to find it hanging up. The smooth plates were practically shining, all scuffs gone. The undersuit had been replaced or repaired, and similarly had a slick sheen to its surface, and a quick check showed the filtration system had been repaired. Lance let out a breath of relief, and felt curiously grateful. It had probably been Coran, or maybe the ship had a sort of armor-repairing subroutine. He walked towards the exit, feeling strangely light. His eyes glanced at the other suits hanging--Pidge’s was missing, but Hunk’s and Shiro’s, while hung up, didn’t have the _sheen_ that Lance’s now had. The last one, however, did. Lance stopped, and a smile tugged at his lips. He stood for a moment longer, looking at the loving care that had gone into polishing the red paladin’s armor, and then walked away. There was a warm feeling in his chest, as well as a faint twinge of pain.

Even Shiro’s well-kept, military like armor wasn’t so well taken care of. Hell, even the _Blue Lion_ wasn’t as polished and preened as Keith’s armor. Or, Lance realized, the Red Lion herself. There was a faint tremor of both amusement and jealousy in his mind, reverberating from Blue, and Lance quickly moved to comfort her.

“You know what, girl? I’ll make it up to you. I’ll find out what Keith uses, and then I’ll work on you until you _sparkle_ , okay beautiful?” His voice was soft as he spoke, and he felt his lion’s approval filter through him. With a grin, Lance set off to find Keith, feeling somewhat normal for the first time in a long time. And strangely touched. He would have to thank Keith, as well as find out what he used to keep his gear and lion in such good condition.

He pondered where Keith would be. His first bet was the training room, but _surely_ it was too early for Keith to be whacking away at dummies. He popped his head into the kitchen and lounge on the way over, not really surprised when Keith wasn’t there. He _was_ dimly surprised when the training room opened up and the lights flickered on, revealing that it was empty. Where had he gone? Lance was puzzled, and halfway considered asking Allura. She most likely would be at the bridge, or in her own room, given that the lounge had been empty. But...maybe he would swing by Keith’s room first before bothering the princess.

Lance paused outside of Keith’s door, hand up and ready to knock when he heard it. It took a moment to register.

“ _Fuck_...” It was a soft, muffled word, half-groan and half-whisper. If Lance hadn’t been literally _right outside Keith’s door_ he probably wouldn’t have heard it at all. Lance’s heart started beating at a rapid-fire pace suddenly, and heat suffused him, coloring his cheeks darkly and making all of his senses seem like they were on high alert. Embarrassment shot through him, as well as several other things--panic, shame, heat. Lance backed up, face twisting. God was he--?

There was another soft moan from Keith’s door, and it hit Lance like a shock, rushing through him. Before he could think, or process, Lance had stumbled, turned, and ran away, face burning, feeling strangely dirty. His mind was on fire, his eyes wide, and Lance was only grateful that he didn’t run into anyone while he fucking _dashed_ away from Keith’s room, because how could he explain to them that he was freaking out because Keith had been-- Lance couldn’t even complete the thought, not in words. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing hard, and backed up until he hit the solid wall of the hallway, sliding down it. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it...

But his mind completed the thought, in pictures. Keith’s hands, slim, powerful, trailing down pale skin. Keith’s soft, stupid hair damp with sweat. Keith’s violet eyes, half-lidded and darkened with desire. Keith’s mouth, open to allow a hot breath and a soft curse through. ‘ _Fuck_ ’, thought Lance, running a hand through his own hair, the touch sending shivers through him as the idle thought of ‘ _what if he touched me like that_ ’ ran through his brain.

Lance’s heart was pounding against his chest, beating out an insane rhythm at a breakneck pace. His breath almost matched it, and his blood thrummed in his veins. And oh, no, no, Lance was not doing this. There was no way in _hell_ he was going to just--just sit here in the hallway while he felt like his pants were way, way too tight, and his body was making him _painfully_ aware of just how turned on stumbling onto Keith had made him. His mind flickered quickly through his options. He couldn’t just walk back to his room. It was past Keith’s door and hearing more of _that_ would probably destroy Lance. Not to mention what if Keith came out! The thought distressed him--how in the hell could Lance just play it cool, when he was undeniably very not cool right now? He couldn’t, that’s how. So no, bedroom was out. His second thought was training room--if he could cool himself down, he could vent out the frustration there, and probably get some kudos from Shiro for it. But, no, that was probably Keith’s next stop after--yeah. So no training.

Instead, almost helplessly, Lance started off in the direction of the showers. He could hopefully get a little privacy, and deal with his little _problem_ and then somehow try to figure out how to look Keith in the eye in the future. It seemed impossible. Lance slipped into the showers, immeasurably relieved to find the room empty--there were multiple shower stalls, and although they had ‘privacy barriers’, the Alteans clearly had a different mindset when it came to public nudity, because the barriers only blurred, like frosted glass. They did _very little_ to hide the general form of someone’s body, and it would be very obvious what Lance would be doing.

Cheeks flushing red, Lance practically threw his clothes aside, gasping as his erection slipped free of the tight confines of his pants and briefs. The barrier flickered up as he turned the water on, and he shivered briefly as skin-warm water sprayed onto him, before heating deliciously. He was sensitive, and the water felt nice, just pouring down his body. A sigh slid from his lips as he grabbed the soap, and started to gently spread it over himself, deliberately sliding his hands along his skin in a sensual way.

Lance bit his lip and slid his hand down the muscles of his stomach--lean, nicely toned, but not overly muscular, and couldn’t help a small cry as he wrapped his hand around his cock, now fully hard and warm in his hand. Unbidden, his previous thoughts returned to his mind. At first Lance pushed them away, but when he felt his dick throb in his hand at the thought of Keith, lying back on the bed, black hair askew, Lance decided ‘ _Fuck it_ ’ and started stroking himself faster. Arousal pooled in his stomach and started spreading, like a heat deep inside of him. One hand had worked its way behind him, grabbing a handful of his ass and squeezing in time with his strokes. Then, his traitor brain remembered that first word, Keith moaning “ _Fuck_ ”, imagined his teammate throwing his head back as he teased himself, almost unbearable, and then--Lance groaned softly as he came, breath hitching with each pulse of cum that splattered against his hand, shivering as wave after wave of pleasure shot through him, leaving sparks in its wake.

Spent, he slumped against the wall, eyes still closed, and let the water rinse away the evidence of what he’d done. Guilt hung around him as he finished washing briskly and shut off the showers. He was halfway through drying off when, clearing his throat almost out of habit after the past few days, he felt something catch in his throat. Gasping, he coughed, his throat working uncomfortably as something small dislodged itself. He spat it up into his hand, wheezing for a breath, and then stopped cold as he caught sight of what he had coughed up.

At first he thought something was mega-wrong. It was wet, and reddish and in the glistening light Lance felt a jolt of panic at the thought that this was _flesh._ But reaching a hesitant finger forward to touch it, he realized it felt wrong. He spread it out on his hand, and felt his stomach drop. In his hand, still wet, was a single red flower petal, roughly an inch long and wide, paper thin. His eyes went wide.

His chest felt tight, and suddenly the faint discomfort in his chest and throat from coughing made him want to die. The flower--the damn _parasitic plant_ \--it had to be. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think! Cold fingers suddenly shook as he sank to the cool tiled floor, unable to breathe in. His mind was a whirl of thoughts and fears and _worst of all_ he felt absurdly aware of his body, over-analyzing each little sensation, hyper-aware of his breath. He was paralyzed, staring at the flower petal, which seemed to writhe in his hand as the shaking gave it the seeming of its own life.

Tears welled in his eyes as he stared in horror at the petal, at what it meant. His fingers closed around it, crushing it. His eyes closed.

Curled up on the cold floor, Lance put his hands over his face, and sobbed, clothes and towel forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, so this is the first chapter in my Klance fic. A little while ago I discovered something called _Hanahaki_ for the first time, and it really ran away with my imagination. Given that I have been **obsessed** with VLD lately, I started working on this fic.
> 
> I'm not sure how many chapters this will turn out to be, but I have a definitive outline that I've written, with a little bit of wiggle room if the writing decides to run away from me ~~or I decide it needs way more sex scenes~~. I hope you all enjoy this ride with me, and I look forward to sharing the unfolding story with you.
> 
> As for the _actual_ hanahaki content, I sort of gave it my own feel and spin, and adapted it to the more space-themed environment of the Voltron Verse. It's not a known disease to the humans, and they don't have preconceptions about it. Lance, however, is ~~quite rightfully in my opinion~~ upset about a parasitic plant growing inside of him.


	2. Breathless in Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is fine...right? Lance keeps telling himself that, anyways. The growing issue of the plant is worrying, but there's no time to worry when the team receives an SOS signal from rebels, stranded by the Galra. No time to worry...until it causes problems in a battle. How can Lance fight if he's struggling to breathe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No smut this time, sorry guys. Next chapter, I promise.
> 
> Warning for some mild graphic depiction of the rather uncomfortable sensation of choking up flower petals. This ain't your typical hanahaki where the petals appear in a puff of fragrant smoke, sorry.
> 
>  _*Special Thanks* to_ climberofappletrees _for pointing out a bit of Chapter2 that got cut out while editing._

The petal was just the first of its kind.

Lance stared down at the few petals strewn over the floor, sitting with his legs tucked under him. He felt the same sort of emptiness yawning inside of him that he did after a terrible battle. Panic, for the moment, had faded from the forefront of his mind, something only dimly felt at this moment. He almost had the urge to laugh, feeling divorced from himself as he burned the image of those petals into his brain. He didn’t think he could feel anything right now, even if he wanted to.

They were strangely beautiful.

Lance had always _liked_ flowers. He didn’t know their names, or anything, and hadn’t grown them. But he had an appreciation for springtime. Flowers were always so bright and colorful. They smelled good, usually, and were soft. Rose petals strewn on a floor after a wedding, cherry blossoms flung into the air for a celebration. Daisy petals dyed in rainbows. They had always seemed to have a sort of deeper meaning, an association, perhaps, with what they were used for. Romance, renewal, innocence. He wondered what these ones meant.

They weren’t all red.

Lance felt something like surprise, distant and muted. His fingertips reached out and brushed against one; it clung wetly to his skin. It was cold. That should bother him, but it didn’t. What bothered him was the petals. They weren’t...all the same? He brought it up, his distant gaze fixing on it. The petal was soft, but it wasn’t completely red. There was the faintest flush of purple at the bottom, the color faded slightly. He glanced at all of them. They looked like watercolor things, as if washed darkly with red, but other, hidden colors still somehow shone through. It reminded him of something he had seen before, made his chest ache slightly just to think of it.

He was in shock.

The thought was distant, but as the ticks crawled past, he managed to process it. He looked down at his numb fingertips. Shock. Yeah. He should do something about that. He pushed himself up onto his feet, and started to dress. As an afterthought, he bent down and gathered up the petals, breath shallow and thoughts laborious. There weren’t many. Delicate, torn. No longer perfect. He needed to do something about this. Calm down. Get out of the showers where anyone could walk in on him.

Lance walked out of the showers, feeling a bit like a ghost. He didn’t know how long it took to find his room. Time was a slippery thing while his mind was aware of exactly how the air filled his lungs and slid back out, while his mind flickered with half-finished thoughts and sparks of emotions that never really took hold. The hallways of the castle seemed to go on forever. Like a dream. A feverish dream. ‘ _Maybe I’m actually still sick,_ ’ he thought to himself hopefully, and had come out of the shock enough to recognize that as a sad hope.

By the time he stepped through his door and sat down on his bed, his thoughts no longer moved so sluggishly, and the world no longer had that edge of fuzzy panic to it. He stared into his handful of petals, and just...breathed. In and out. Like he remembered being trained to do in the Garrison, despite that feeling like a million years ago instead of just a handful of months.

“Calm down McClain. You don’t know anything about this alien plant thing. Maybe this is normal--” his voice hitched up on ‘normal’, and he stopped, taking another breath. “Just. Be cool. You can ask Coran about it. He knows about the flower. There’s gotta be a perfectly good explanation for this.” His breath was starting to work up towards hyperventilation again, and it was only with a great deal of effort that Lance managed to force it back to an even pace. Making a distressed noise, Lance flopped onto his bed, clapping his hands over his face as if to block out everything.

Talking to Coran _was_ a good idea. If the pollen was doing something weird, Coran would know. He was the one who acted as the paladin’s medic, after all, and had an almost encyclopedic memory full of tidbits about the universe. God, Lance had the entire castle-ship’s database at his disposal, and instead of stopping to think, he went and had to have a panic attack in the shower! After jacking off to fantasies of _Keith_ , no less!

That thought, as well as the rush of heat to his face and embarrassment that followed in its wake was much preferable to the panic he had been slowly working himself out of. And there was a part of Lance’s mind that was _more_ than happy to linger on the thoughts and fantasies that had cropped up after that little accident. Not to mention a mortified part that tried in vain to think of a way to look Keith in the eyes now. He couldn’t really come up with a way.

Lance rolled over, to find that the petals that he had forgotten to put down had scattered over his bed when he covered his face. They were looking much worse for the wear now, and Lance picked them up, torn between disgust and a desire to remove them from his bed. He felt odd, watching them flutter down the waste chute, and still uneasy at the thought of where they came from, and what it could mean. With a sigh, Lance shook his head and stepped purposefully towards the bathroom connected to his room. He was unsettled, and whatever answers Coran would give him could wait a few minutes.

\-------

Twenty minutes later, dressed in his loose Altean robe, feeling much better after applying a mud mask, a bit of nunnvil to his hair--Coran was right as usual, that stuff made excellent hair tonic and a horrible drink--and filing his nails down before coating them all in a thin coat of clear nail polish, Lance set out to try and restart his day. It was about midday now, and Lance was confident that his team would probably assume he had slept in and only just awoken. Easy to pass off. No need to worry anyone any more than he already had, and perhaps get a quick word in with Coran on the side. He was no master strategist, but that sounded like a solid plan to him.

Already his usual confidence, or at least the semblance of it, had Lance feeling less shaky already. He made his way to the kitchen, and was pleased to hear the sounds of the rest of the team already there. He put a carefully manufactured grin on his face before appearing in the doorway. His team had worried enough about him.

Hunk, Pidge, and Keith were heatedly debating--or rather, Hunk and Pidge were, with Keith commenting here and there--over a hunk of alien tech that Pidge must have picked up somewhere. Keith looked freshly showered, and--nope, Lance was not gonna think about that. Allura was leaning back in her chair, sipping more dreadful Altean tea, and Shiro was listening attentively as Coran rambled on about something. Lance sniffed--no cornering Coran for the moment, or at least not until he was done...which could be vargas. Well, he was in the kitchen, so he grabbed a bowl and filled it full of goo, hand hovering between the three spice-shakers that Hunk had acquired and filled with various spices. The Altean symbols were unreadable and _very similar. One_ of these had a pleasant savory spice that went well with the goo. The other two had something spicier than peppers that Shiro and Keith favored, and the other had something ridiculously sweet that, in Lance’s opinion, should have been sprinkled on a dessert and not green slime. Pidge preferred that one. He wavered, and then grabbed one, shaking it onto his food, and grinned as the savory spice sprinkled out. _Bad day: 0, Lance: 1_

He sat down next to Hunk, who shot him a smile before launching into his piece. Lance laughed and made a calming gesture as Pidge glowered. “Woah, woah. What’s this all about?” He grabbed his spoon and started eating the goo. He’d...sort of missed breakfast, so it was pretty good, as far as goo went. The space-salt helped.

“Well,” Pidge started, pushing her glasses up, “I picked up this little drone on that last junk-asteroid we stopped to scavenge from. I was thinking I could try to rig it with a sort of hover technology, fix it up a little, and have my own little spy. Maybe even set it up so it has a weapon--supporting fire!” She threw her hands up excitedly, and Lance frowned slightly.

“That’s sort of my job,” Lance pointed out, to which Pidge raised an eyebrow. “The shooting part, at least.” He quickly amended with a grin that was only slightly stiff.

“And I say, given the condition it’s in, to just rig it with a bomb or an EMP. Use it like a drone-grenade.” Keith said. “It’s probably how its going to go out anyways--thing’s on its last legs. Literally.” Lance carefully avoided making eye contact with Keith, _very_ aware of how nonchalant the black-haired boy was right now. Instead he looked at the thing on the table...and got a good idea of what Keith was saying.

It resembled a mechanical spider, but had only one functioning leg, the others broken off at the joints or missing completely. Multiple camera-eyes were positioned around its perimeter, although most of them were broken, and the back of it had a thick substance like oil left to sit caked on it. He made a face. “Wow Pidge, you really want to try and fix this up? I’d say scrap it.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Hunk said, nodding. “It looks a lot like the ones we picked up on that moon around the gas giant, and those were about the only thing with grade-A Kothoenor resistor coils in them that we’ve found. I was able to re-purpose those coils _beautifully_ , not to mention that you yourself used them in your modifications to the Green Lion.”

“But--” Pidge argued with a raised finger, “We have plenty of S-class Nichrome alloy here in the castle, and that would work just as well as the Kothoenor.” She raised an eyebrow. “I only re-purposed the coils because I hadn’t found out about the castle’s synthesizer and I didn’t have the tools to melt or cast a coil by hand, obviously.”

Lance followed the conversation in only the faintest sense, picking out the occasional word of english in all the tech talk, watching with an amused twitch of the lips as both Pidge and Hunk grew increasingly animated in their debate, before Pidge, with a smirk, picked up the filthy robot. Lance observed as some of the thick oil clung to the table’s surface.

“Fine! Why don’t you come and see with me whether the gravitational pressure and high speeds damaged the internal components so much that the coils are unusable. I bet you a broken drone that they aren’t worth scrapping the ‘bot for.” Pidge was halfway to the door as she said it.

Hunk stood, also grinning. “Oh, you’re on. And I’ll be watching you _like a hawk_ so don’t try to snap anything when you pull it open. In fact, why don’t I open it...” Their voices faded as they walked down the hallway, and for a moment it was just like old times, back in the Galaxy Garrison, when it had just been Lance, Pidge, and Hunk, the two of them bickering good-naturedly over the places where tech-specialist and engineer duties and interests overlapped. A smile tilted his lips up as his eyes followed them, a real smile, this time, and he chuckled fondly.

As he turned his attention back to his food, Lance caught a flash of Keith, his face unreadable, his eyes on Lance with an intensity that made Lance’s face flush, and then deepen when his brain unhelpfully reminded him what Keith had likely just been doing, not too long ago. Just as quickly as Lance had caught the red paladin looking, Keith’s eyes had danced away, which was great, because Lance had to remind himself how to breathe.

“You guys are really close, huh?” His voice was quiet, and had a strange note to it. Not for the first time, Lance was once again struck by Keith’s demeanor--like a wild animal, hesitant, tense. Even now, Lance could see his shoulders raise just a bit, see his expression close off as if Lance’s gaze was something to shrink from.

Without really thinking about it, Lance reached out, putting his hand on Keith’s arm. Keith’s eyes widened, and he looked at Lance, frozen--’ _like he’s not sure what to do. God._ ’ The thought came with the urge to chase away that uncertainty. Lance squeezed Keith’s arm gently. “Keith. Buddy. We are close. _All_ of us. Yes, Hunk and Pidge and me were on the same team back in the Galaxy Garrison, but...things are different now. We’re a team.” Coran had stopped talking, and Shiro had half-turned to watch, a knowing smile tilting his lips. Lance didn’t notice this. His eyes were on Keith’s as if staring him down imploringly could convince Keith he was a part of the team.

Keith blinked, the movement slow. He seemed to realize then that the little show of solidarity had garnered some attention, because he lifted his arm slightly. Lance released it, and cleared his throat, bringing his hand up to it unthinkingly as his breath caught for a moment. “Don’t get me wrong though,” Lance amended a bit hastily, “You’re still hotheaded and impulsive.” The jibe was halfhearted, and only achieved the small goal of making the corners of Keith’s mouth quirk up.

“If you say so,” Keith said, and stood. His eyes flickered over the others accusingly, and then Keith rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “I’ll be in the training room,” he announced to no one in particular, and then stiffly walked out. Shiro’s chuckle seemed to chase Keith out of the room.

Lance followed Keith with his eyes before looking back to the other three in the room, puzzled. “Wasn’t he just _in_ the training room?”

Allura looked up from the tablet she had acquired, looking very much as if she had been reading something. The screen was dark, Lance noticed. Shameless. But he said nothing. “This morning? No, he has been in his rooms all morning. The both of you got a late start to the day, I believe.”

‘I _n his room all morning. Oh boy.’_ Lance felt his eyes widen as the implications of that sunk in. His cheeks, which had been a faint pink, darkened more. He made an interested--and somewhat choked--noise as Allura turned back to the tablet, actually turning it on this time. God, that meant that mullet-head had been having a drawn out session. Lance felt his attention slide away at the thought. Did Keith tease himself for hours, then? Draw it out as long as possible? Or did he go for multiple sessions? Lance wasn’t sure which thought appealed to him more, but he _did_ know that wow, this was not the time nor the place for _those_ sorts of thoughts.

Lance shoved the rest of his goo into his mouth to buy himself time, and then stood abruptly. He started towards the door, but then paused, turning mid-step towards Coran. “Oh, I had a, uh, a question for you, Coran. It’s, uh, about the _plant_.” He hated the way his voice shook slightly on that last word, and hated that Coran was able to read into it, by the way the older Altean’s face softened.

“Of course, Lance. What was your question?”

“Well, I sort of, uh. Well. Do these plants make flowers? Because this morning I coughed up a petal, and let me tell you, that was definitely not on my morning to-do list. It sorta freaked me out.” He had manged to regain his facade quickly, and masked the extent of how disquieted he was with the smooth, almost nonchalant admission.

Coran breathed in sharply. “Well...” he began, his voice lilting upwards in thought.”The usual progression would have flowers, yes. But not until considerably further into the growth process than you could possibly be. Was there any pain?”

Lance started to reply that, yes, it had hurt, but then stopped. Had it actually hurt? There hadn’t been any blood. Just the usual tenderness that came with racking coughs, and quite a bit of emotional upset. “I don’t think so. There was no blood. Just the petals. Is this...something we should be worried about? You know more about this than me, Coran.”

The Altean looked relieved at the answer, and smiled at Lance comfortingly. “Not at all, Lance. Most likely the Haixian lily managed to get a sprout to bloom, and now that your body is attacking the foreign cells the bloom is wilting. That’s where the petals would come from.” Lance shuddered at the thought of a plant growing _inside_ of him, and took a breath to steady himself, nodding shortly.

“That’s...ugh. But good I guess?”

“Just come to me if there’s any pain, and I’ll give you a thorough scan, just to be safe. If there’s a bloom or leaf, it might cause some unpleasant irritation in your throat, although that’s highly unlikely. The petals might come up all at once, or bit-by-bit though. The lilies came in several different types, and some of them had lots of tiny petals when they bloomed.”

Lance frowned. “Aren’t lilies like, a specific type of flower? I thought they were.” He thought, and as far as he could remember, they definitely had a specific shape to them, a shape that didn’t match the petals he had choked up.

“You have lilies on Earth? And you were upset over the heart-lily? Did something bad happen?” Coran’s alien naivete about earth-stuff softened the sentence, but Lance still sputtered at the thought of parasitic plants that grew inside of people being on Earth.

“Earth plants don’t grow inside of people, Coran,” Shiro cut in. Lance hadn’t been aware that he was listening, although he supposed he should have expected it. Shiro would have found out either way. And it saved him an awkward conversation later. “And that sounds rough Lance. It must have been pretty frightening.” Shiro’s compassionate glance had a weight to it that almost surprised Lance, until his brain kicked in. Of _course_ Shiro understood. ‘Frightening’ probably didn’t even begin to sum up _Shiro’s_ experience with his body being changed by something alien and outside of his control. Compared to being the Galra’s captive, and being forced to fight in their area, only to have his arm replaced by some terrifying weapon, Lance’s little run in with a flower was almost laughable.

Almost. But Lance offered Shiro a grateful smile. “Hey, it’s not all that bad. I’ll live, or at least Coran says so. I might milk this for a few more rest-days, though, Shiro. I’ll be honest, being sick really messed up my beauty routine. I could use a vacation.” He sniffed, and patted his hair, posing slightly, and was rewarded with Shiro’s concern melting into a laugh.

“Well, we can afford to go easy on you for a day or two, I think. Emergencies notwithstanding, of course.” Shiro offered him a smile, and Lance was glad Shiro had been here to offer his understanding. This whole thing felt much less scary with someone who could empathize. And just maybe Lance would understand Shiro a little bit more. After all, he felt like he already did.

He started towards the door, thinking of checking in with Hunk and Pidge and filling them in on the whole Flower Thing, but paused in the doorway. “Hey Shiro, Coran? Thanks. That made me feel a lot better.” He slipped away before they could reply, and felt much lighter. Coran was right. Soon enough this whole thing would pass, and then he could get back to...whatever normal counted as out here in space, saving the galaxy. He could hold off on telling Hunk for now. Didn’t want to worry his buddy, after all.

\-------

Lance leaned against the doorway to the training room, feeling almost like he was intruding on something. Yet he was transfixed, and didn’t want to ruin whatever fragile spell kept this moment going.

Keith was whirling furiously through a series of complicated-looking maneuvers, his sword glinting in the cool Altean light as it slashed into the robots he was fighting against. Despite the fact that there were about five of them, all armed with weapons of their own, Keith was doing more than holding them off; he was slowly thinning their ranks. Violet eyes darted around, determination burning in them, before, with a growl, he ripped his sword upwards to block a blow from behind. Lance _knew_ he couldn’t have seen it! That was...inhuman.

Keith darted forward, skewering the bot with a sharp exhalation of breath, and then whipped around. As Lance watched, he made short work of the remaining bots, practically dancing through the crowd of fighters with a deadly grace that made his movements look easy. The _ease_ with which his blade sunk into the metal breastplate...as if it were butter, and the blade hot as flame.

Lance let out a low, impressed whistle as Keith stood there, breathing heavily. At the noise Keith jerked around, blade rising threateningly before he caught sight of Lance. Instantly, the bayard disappeared in a flash, returning to Keith’s suit, and Keith removed his helmet. Lance put up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Easy there, don’t take me out!” He joked.

“What do you want?” Keith tucked his helmet under his arm, and irritably brushed a strand of sweat soaked hair out of his face, eyeing Lance with a stern expression. His breath was still coming a little short, and it gave the words a breathlessness that...made Lance’s throat lock up in an interesting way. ‘ _Fuck, Lance, pay attention!_ ’’

“I-I, ah, wanted to talk with you,” Lance fumbled, straightening from where he leaned. “I wanted to...thank you, actually.” He looked down, realizing he was fiddling with the hem of his shirt, and took a breath. Eyes flicking up to Keith, he saw the other boy had a strangely stricken look on his face, a sort of wariness around his eyes, which fell away in a moment like an iron gate slamming down.

Keith, unfreezing from where he had stopped dead, took another step towards the doorway, clearly intending to brush past Lance. “Thank me for what?” Keith’s eyes darted to meet Lance’s for a split second, and Lance felt irritation prickle through him. God why did Keith have to make everything so _difficult_? Here Lance was trying to thank him for being _incredibly thoughtful_ and he was trying to skitter away--as per usual. So instead he grabbed Keith’s arm, stopping him mid-step.

“Well, for the tea, I guess, first off.” Lance let some of his exasperation slide into his voice, and saw Keith twitch slightly. Hah. Had Keith really thought he had no idea that it was him who had done that? “Allura told me about the tea, that first time...and it was really thoughtful. It meant a lot.” Keith had turned to look at Lance, looking slightly guilty. “My mom always used to practically force tea down my throat whenever I so much as looked like I was gonna sneeze, so it was...like a bit of home, I guess. So thanks.”

Keith wet his lips, and nodded. “Yeah. Well, I’ve had tea for a while. All different kinds. I’ve picked up a lot from the planets we’ve visited, but that was from Earth. I still have a whole other tin.” He still had a strangely guarded look, and the small concession slipped from his lips almost begrudgingly, as if Keith could hardly bear to have Lance know his _beverage of choice_.

“Oh, cool. I didn’t know you were into tea. Or like...I knew you drank hot stuff all the time, I just assumed it was Altean tea.” Lance hadn’t had any idea how Keith had managed to choke down the incredibly bitter, strangely _sharp_ tasting Altean tea that Allura seemed to enjoy so much. Turns out...he hadn’t been drinking it. That made sense.

Keith made a face. “That stuff is godawful. No offense to Allura and Coran.” He shifted slightly, eyes flicking down to where Lance’s hand still held his arm captive.“Yeah, I like tea. Its...relaxing. Helps me sleep sometimes. I’m just lucky I had some in my bag when we--left.”

Lance considered this. “So, that bag you always carried around...those pouches. Am I to believe that you just always have an emergency stash of tea?” A teasing grin was sliding across his face. “I always thought they were weapons, or useful supplies or something.” Keith began to look offended, and opened his mouth to say something, but Lance couldn’t contain his laughter anymore, and it spilled out.

“When I lived in the desert, yes, I had some tea with me. I almost always had to make camp if I was caught outside after dark, and drinking _boiling water_ wasn’t my favorite pastime.” He crossed his arms, one hand going self-consciously to the small pouches on his armor. “And I _do_ carry emergency supplies with me. They’re standard Paladin gear.”

“Oh man. That’s rich. I’m just imagining you in the middle of the desert with a--a dainty little teacup.” The mental image made Lance descend into giggles again, and Keith frown harder. “W-were some of your other emergency supplies scones?” Lance’s laughter was almost helpless, and Keith made a disgusted noise and wrenched his hand away, face burning.

“Fuck off,” he growled, and Lance straightened, laughter dying as Keith stomped away.

“Keith--dude. It was just a joke. Didn’t mean to get you all riled up!” Lance called after Keith, jogging to catch up to Keith, who had turned slightly at his name. “Really, though. Thanks. It helped, and it was cute, having all these secret Keith-presents popping up.”

Keith blinked, and shook his head. “Yeah, whatever. Don’t get sick again.” His voice was tight, with an edge of huskiness to it. He turned sharply and continued off towards the showers. Lance was not inclined to follow, and allowed Keith to escape. As Keith turned around the corner, Lance distinctly heard him mutter, “ _Cute,_ " almost in disgust.

\--------

It was happening more often. Lance rushed out of the training room at a full pelt, breath locked in his lungs, tears streaming from his eyes as he ran, his muscles screaming in protest at the rush. He barely reached the bathroom and hit the panel with a haphazard hand before his throat convulsed, and he fell to his knees, gagging as his body tried to force out the petals he’d been trying to keep in all through the training session. A strangled noise squeezed out of his throat as his throat worked again, and he heaved, one hand slapping onto the floor and the other wrapping around his throat as the first petals started to move in his throat, setting off his gag reflex and making the dry-heaving worse.

The first few petals hit the floor wetly, and Lance sucked in a massive breath, choked as more petals caught in his throat, and began coughing and retching, back arching as what felt like an entire flower shop’s worth of petals started to pour out of him. He felt them crowd his throat, each breath forcing them upwards until his throat worked them up into his mouth. Thick strands of saliva connected the clumps of petals to his gasping, choking mouth, and after a few minutes the petals stopped coming, and he was able to breathe, gasping and shivering, feeling the very real threat of _actually_ vomiting lingering. He panted, swallowing thickly. He coughed, and spat out a last petal, looking down at them with some concern.

There were more than last time. Doubts rushed through his mind as he stared at the wet petals. Shouldn’t there be less, if Coran was right and there was only a sprout or two growing? Coran had assured him that the plant was dying, and after Lance had begged him, had done a scan on Lance’s lungs. As much as Lance had hated to hear it, Coran had confirmed that a small bloom had sprouted somewhere in his trachea. Lance swallowed now, as if he could feel it inside of him, but he couldn’t, of course. Technically it wasn’t even in this throat. His breathing never felt obstructed until petals started to tear free, and then it was like being sick and coughing up something. The worst part was that the scan Coran had showed him was a small, blurry _something_ in his lungs. Something that small just _couldn’t_ make petals this big, or this many.

A shaky sigh worked its way out of Lance as he stared down at the mess on the floor. Some of the outside petals had started to dry, and, once they weren’t covered with strands of saliva and limp on the ground, they looked...almost nice. Over time, since that first one, the colors of the petals had been shifting, slowly. It was a gradual thing, and Lance could only barely remember what the first ones had looked like, the memory blurred by panic, but he remembered them being sort of red. These were a brilliant fiery red, with some deep purples at the very bottom, faded and washed out. Some of the petals were more red, some more purple, so that they made a texture of color that Lance could hardly imagine put together as a flower.

As time had worn on, the petals had become....almost normal. They were still alarming, particularly when he was in the middle of training one moment--sparring with Keith furiously, halfway caught by Keith’s aggressive style, and halfway caught just by the sinuous way that he moved--and then gagging the next, rushing for the exit. Concerned eyes had burned holes in him as he ran away. Shiro had known from that day in the kitchen that Lance was still, occasionally, spitting up flowers. And Lance had _begged_ Shiro to keep it to himself; he couldn’t burden Hunk with the knowledge. A selfish part of him wanted Hunk not to know so that, when he was with him, Lance could pretend everything was normal. Because as time went on, things were getting more and more muddied. And Lance was starting to admit several things to himself.

Out of everything, dealing with the flowers was much, _much_ easier. He reached out and brushed one of the dried petals. It was silken soft, almost obscenely so, and the color was just so...beautiful. Making a noise low in his throat, Lance jerked his hand away, and then scooped up the pile. It was more than a handful now. As the petals dried, the pile seemed much larger, but it definitely took him both hands to grab all the petals and hastily shove them into the waste disposal. They fluttered down into the darkness.

Lance wiped his mouth off and went over to the sink to wash his hands. The Altean mirror, ringed in the same aqua lights as the rest of the ship, made him look pale, almost colorless. Making a soft displeased noise, Lance turned on his heel and walked back to the training room. Shiro had taken over sparring with Keith, and shot Lance a concerned look. Lance just smiled and shot a thumbs up to Shiro, sticking out his tongue playfully.

As he did so, he saw Shiro’s eyes widen, almost in horror. Lance blinked, and then became aware of a petal clinging to his lips. Feeling embarrassment--as if this were something shameful, to hide, although Lance wasn’t sure why he felt that way--Lance plucked it off and shoved it hastily into a pocket.

Suddenly, the air in the castle was fractured with the emergency alarm. Shiro’s wide eyes swung towards where Allura’s face on holoscreen popped up, as the rest of the team whirled to face the screen as well.

“Paladins! To the bridge! We’ve picked up some sort of SOS signal. Quickly!”

In a whirl of movement, everyone was pelting towards the bridge. The alarm in Allura’s voice spurred them on, but Lance, at least, had a deep-seated itch in him from the long span of inactivity; the only real missions they’d gone on had mostly been reconnaissance or collection missions to pick up various rare materials from planets they passed. The last mission _Lance_ had been on had been the most boring scrapping mission--stopping by a derelict Galra ship crushed halfway into an asteroid to scavenge as much from the dead ship as possible, as well as have Pidge check the computer for any important information. Other than the occasional skeleton, it had been very tame, as far as missions went. Lance had a sneaking suspicion that Allura and Coran were trying not to send him out on missions until he was feeling better.

That suspicion lingered in Lance’s mind as they reached the bridge almost as one--Shiro had pulled ahead and Keith was just behind him, quick as a thought. Hunk had lagged, but only because Pidge had clambered onto his shoulders, and as Lance slowed, feeling his breath catching, Hunk pulled ahead. Lance cleared his through surreptitiously, not wanting to draw attention to it, and willed the petals to stay put for now. They had a _mission_ to worry about!

“What’s the status on that signal, Princess?” Shiro’s voice cut through Lance’s thoughts, and his eyes whipped up to the screens in front of Allura, which were spinning with a system not familiar to Lance, a symbol representing the SOS signal.

“It appears to be from a rebel ship,” Allura began, pulling up the signal, “And its fairly recent. We’ve managed to pinpoint the location to the next system over. The ship appears to be caught between the gravitational pull of planet Iylia and Necluna. Deep space scans reveal the ship as heavily damaged; it would be a miracle if the engines are still running. The signal is a typical SOS signal--no recorded message.” Her lips pursed, and her brow furrowed. “As Paladins, you must adhere to the Paladin’s Code and answer this call for help. But...” she trailed off, her voice tight.

“But it might be a trap,” Shiro finished, eyeing the starmap with a grim face. “After all, where is the ship that damaged our supposed rebels?” There was some shifting, and Lance found his eyes sliding from the map to the others. Shiro was frowning at the map, Pidge just behind him murmuring about gravitational pulls and engine parts with Hunk. And Keith....Keith was standing off to the side, near the zipline to the Red Lion’s hangar, looking impatient. Lance felt a bit of a smile, and could see his thought process exactly: They were going to do it anyways. And plans had never been mullet’s strong suit.

“We all know we’re going anyways,” Lance said, echoing that thought, eyes still lingering on Keith’s impatience. “We can’t ignore it if it _is_ a bunch of rebels in need; we need allies too badly. And if its a Galra trap, we need to go in anyways, and find out why they felt the need to set a trap here. Either way, we’re going.” He was treated to Keith turning to him, a surprised expression on his face--Lance quickly averted his eyes, feeling his face burn a little at the thought of being caught staring.

At those words, everyone split up to their lions, Shiro staying for a moment longer to confer with Allura before heading to his lion as well. By the time Lance had climbed into Blue’s cockpit, the petals in this throat had seemed to multiply, and he had to hastily mute his commlink before coughing them up, allowing the petals to spray out and hit Blue’s floor wetly. He repressed a wince as he sat in the pilot’s seat and un-muted himself. Blue touched his mind distantly, something like concern reading in the touch. He sent reassurance back, and patted the armrest.

“Alright everyone,” Shiro’s voice said over the comms, “Allura is gonna to open a wormhole and take us in. Pidge, as fast as you can, check the exterior for damages. Depending on how badly damaged the ship is, we’ll either try to get the engines in working order, tow the ship, or try to gather everyone into pods to be ferried to a safe place. Hunk, you cover Pidge, and if she has to board, you go in with her. Lance, Keith, you and me are going to guard the ship and keep an eye out for trouble. If needs be, we’re going to have to distract any trouble that comes our way while Pidge and Hunk deal with the ship, one way or another.”

“Uh, what if the ship is a trap? Like just Galra inside?” Hunk’s voice was nervous over the comms as The castle-ship started moving forwards as Allura opened a wormhole, the lions crouching in their hangars, ready to shoot out as soon as the castle was clear. Slowly, the castle emerged.

“That’s why you’re coming with me, Hunk,” Pidge quipped, “Your cannon should be enough to keep any potential enemies away. And we’d still need to check for hostages or survivors, in that situation, and check the computers for any useful information.”

“There it is!” Shiro exclaimed.

“Coran, try to hail the ship,” Allura commanded. There was an affirmative sound from Coran, but then silence. “They aren’t answering. Pidge, go check out the ship.” Her voice was worried. To be fair, Lance could see why. The ship looked....bad.

Dead in the water, it’s local SOS signal lighting up Blue’s display, was the rebel ship. It was old, and blocky, nothing compared to the sleek Galra ships or even the elegant design of Altean technology. It looked more like Rolo and Nymah’s junker ship, except it was probably two models older and in very poor condition. Lance whistled as the Green Lion shot towards it, the Yellow Lion in close pursuit. The entire rear of the ship was crushed like a soda can, and there was debris and smoke spreading from the ship like blood in water, pooling around it. Lance’s throat tightened in fear--that must be fairly recent. Otherwise the smoke would be miles wide. Not to mention there was always something about how smoke behaved in space that set his teeth wrong; it didn’t seem natural.

“The exterior is badly damaged. Rear engines unusable, side thrusters look badly damaged. They might have some use in the bottom ion propulsion, but its unlikely. I’m gonna have to dock and find survivors. You ready Hunk?”

“I still think this is a trap,” Hunk worried, “But I’ve got your back.”

The lions approached the ship, and Lance turned his attention away, feeling tense. He was glad he did, because a dobosh later he saw the telltale sparkle of light and energy before it lit up the scanners. “We’ve got company!” He shouted, his voice cracking slightly. “Keith, to your left! Watch out!” Lance whirled his lion, already shooting as the Galra battleship appeared out of its own wormhole, the purple energy crackling like lightning through the void of space. And then his attention was taken, as the battleship sent out fighters, a literal cloud of them streaking out like crows to harry the three lions. There was a streak of red as Keith charged into the fray, the Red Lion darting from target to target, its glowing jaw-blade sliding through Galran steel and leaving only a bright splash of explosions behind. Shiro and the Black Lion shot towards the battleship itself, his own blade and claws raking across the ship as its ion cannon swung ponderously around, aiming towards the castle-ship before going up in a bright explosion.

“Preparing to fire!” Coran’s voice was distant, Lance’s attention was torn for a moment--he wanted to dart in and join Keith, but the rebel ship, with the Green and Yellow Lions attached was a sitting duck. Instead he swooped backwards, eyeing the fighter jets that shot towards him. A shout slipped out of his mouth as he began firing on them, the tail-laser slicing through them.

“I’ve got the rebel ship, you guys keep the battleship distracted--” Lance started to shout, and then coughed. One hand let go of the controls to grab at his throat. Instantly the Blue Lion spun to the side, and then shook, a cracking sound reverberating through the metal, as one of the fighter’s wide shots ended up colliding with Lance’s lion. He cried out hoarsely, instantly grabbing the controls again. Keith and Shiro’s curses flooded the comms as they fought.

God _not now_! Lance had to spin the lion hard, another shot slamming into Blue’s flank, making her roar in pain and displeasure in his mind. Lance forced out his breath, watching as spittle and petals flew out, and then rammed Blue forward. Her teeth crunched around the fighter, and tossed it into another.

“Lance! What was that?! Are you alright?!” Shiro shouted,

Still coughing, Lance spat out another petal. “I’m fine, Shiro, I just took a hit and over corrected,” he lied, hoping that his teammates were distracted with the fighting. “Pidge, what the _hell_ is taking so long?” There was no response from Pidge, or Hunk, and panic swelled in his chest. “Pidge, Hunk, buddy? Are you guys okay?”

“L--ce? Shiro? We--nd--rebels--th-...-are--ivors--Gu--?--Shit--comms--eing--inter--ith!” Pidge’s voice cut in and out, heavy static spiking up where her words failed. Towards the end, she sounded more angry than anything, which was, in and of itself, a relief. Lance choked back a laugh at the acidic curse.

“Pidge? Hunk? You’re cutting out, can you repeat?” Shiro tried, and then groaned as the Black Lion took a hit. Grimly he destroyed the fighter who got lucky, and commanded, “We’ve gotta take out as many fighters as we can. Lance, keep defending the ship, Keith, grab my stragglers.” And with that Shiro shot off, darting to and fro as fast as the Black Lion could go, his wings flaring for extra speed.

Panic was now clawing at Lance’s chest, as well as the urge to cough. It felt like there wasn’t any space in his lungs for the air he was breathing, each breath rattling in his throat and causing the objects jammed in there to shift uncomfortably. Blue roared in anger in his mind as her body shuddered with another hit, Lance too slow to dodge. His fumbling shots missed, and the fighter pilot shot straight towards them, hurtling right on Blue to shoot another round at close range.

“Fuck, Lance! What the _hell_ are you--” Keith’s voice shot over the comms, the Red Lion shooting forward with a burst of speed that Lance hadn’t thought the machine was capable of. “Fucking don’t _get yourself killed_ , asshole!” Lance slumped in the seat, choking and coughing, fingers scrabbling at his throat before his throat, convulsing, forced the blockage up, and then he was coughing and heaving. Petals ripped their way out of his throat. Lance spits them to the side, and as soon as he can take a solid breath his hands are back on the controls, spinning in time to shoot a fighter trying to sneak up on Keith.

“Thanks, Keith,” Lance gasped, and leapt back into the fray.

“Fucking watch yourself!” Keith shot back hotly.

“--is it working?! Guys?” Pidge’s voice solidified from static, and Lance would cheer if he could get enough air.

“Pidge, am I glad to hear you!” Shiro sounded ecstatic.

“Pidge, Hunk, status report! What’s going on?” That was Allura, her voice demanding as the castle hummed with its lasers firing at full blast.

“We found survivors! There was some nasty Galra tech jamming our comms as soon as we boarded! This was _totally_ a trap! We’re boarding the survivors onto our lions right now--Pidge must have disabled the jammer. We’ll be out in just a few minutes. Cover us, and then we need to get out of here.” Hunk spoke up.

“No,” Keith argued grimly, destroying another ship. “What we _need_ is Voltron! Destroy the cruiser before it calls for backup, and then we get out of here!”

“Too late!” Lance cried, as another purple wormhole opened, a second ship sliding up. “Hunk, Pidge, hurry it up! We gotta get out of here!”

The paladins, without really saying so, retreated closer to the rebel ship, Allura backing the castle-ship up slowly, as the lasers sputtered out, replaced by the particle barrier. Each tick was another shot slamming into one of the lions, another fighter ship shooting out to add to the cloud of enemies approaching. The reinforcement’s ion canon was glowing with a sickly light, charging up and preparing to shoot.

“We’ve got the survivors, lets _go_!” Pidge cried, and Lance could have wept as the Green and Yellow Lions shuddered to life, leaping off of the derelict ship and into the air.

“Paladins, I’m opening a wormhole. Retreat, _NOW!_ ” Allura’s order wasn’t needed at all--the lions turned as one and shot towards the castle as a wormhole opened and began to engulf the ship. There was hardly enough time to get everyone through before the wormhole winked out of existence, and abruptly, there was no more fighting, explosions, or sounds of battle. The Blue Lion hung in space as the quiet of space rushed in around them, and Lance breathed a massive sigh of relief.

“Oh my Quiznack, we’re alive,” he managed. Heaving himself to his feet, Lance quickly swept the various petals up, glancing around in panic before finally shoving them into his armor’s pouches. No trace of petals left, he steered Blue back to the castle. Now was not the time to answer difficult questions; it was the time to interrogate these ‘rebels’ they just saved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2, done ahead of schedule. I'm trying to release every Wednesday, if possible--that gives me a week to write and edit before posting.
> 
> I should probably add 'Slow Burn' as a tag, since that's what this is building up to be. Right now the plot is mainly focusing on Lance and The Plant Problem. Soon, it will be Lance and The Pants Problem™. Seriously, _no porn at all this chapter_ what the hell is wrong with me? Just Lance thinking about Keith touching himself. A lot.


	3. Of The Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance makes a realization. No, two realizations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember that this fic is not tagged with Major Character Death, because there will be no major character death. Sorry if that's what you were looking for.

Shiro was quite good at reprimanding through facial expressions alone, Lance found. Hunk and Pidge had managed to squeeze a crew of about twenty surviving aliens and most of their supplies into their lions--an impressive feat for how short of a time they had really been on that ship. Now everyone was gathered at the bridge of the castle-ship to speak with these rebels and find out what happened, and Shiro was _somehow_ able to communicate to Lance that he had a Talking To in store once this debrief was over. Lance pointedly did not meet Shiro’s gaze, and instead forced himself to pay attention to Allura and the rebels. Most of the survivors were wounded, and quietly tending to their wounds while their leader spoke with Allura.

“...cannot thank you enough, Princess Allura. That the Paladins of Voltron once more patrol the galaxy....that bears good news for the Cause. The Galra cannot-- _will not_ \--rule the universe forever.” The speaker for the rebels was an orange-skinned alien that looked somewhat amphibious, with bulging eyes whose irises seemed like solid gold, and horizontal pupils. Her voice was deep and melodious.

“No need to thank us, captain Auv’op. It is the Paladin’s Creed to aid those in need, and during this dark time of Zarkon’s reign we cannot afford to have allies destroyed.” Allura’s voice was deceivingly even, but Lance saw her wince as she took Auv’op’s extended hand. A small trail of slime connected their hands as Allura pulled back, and Lance couldn’t help but snicker as he watched her almost wipe her hand off on her dress, pause, and then force it closed into a fist. “I am very glad that we were able to rescue you and your crew. I must admit, opposition to Zarkon is few and far between this deep into Zarkon’s territory. What were you and your people doing so deep in enemy space?”

Auv’op’s throat swelled with distress, and her orange skin deepened in what Lance could only describe as an angry flush. “My crew and I were specially selected for a high-risk mission deep into Zarkon’s territory. Our base and safehouses are mostly at the very fringes of the galaxy, and we are poorly provisioned. We were to strike at a Galra outpost and steal what supplies we could, before dropping them off.” Her voice grew mournful. “We managed to steal the cargo, but the Galra attacked us before we could escape--there must have been some alarm we set off during the mission. We lost many fighters and leaders today.”

Another of Auv’op’s race stepped forward, and croaked, “Please, Princess, will you be able to help us at very least return to the nearest safehouse? There are many on The Exodus who are waiting for these supplies; medicines that cannot wait for us to be picked up by other fliers.” This one’s voice had a deeper, creakier voice. He put Lance more in mind of a green toad rather than a frog, with strange bumps in a geometric pattern on his large forehead and down his back and arms. His eyes flickered to the captain, who looked livid.

“Af’amm, leap down!” Auv’op reprimanded, turning almost angrily on her crew member. “You are in no position to ask such favors of Voltron--”

“I don’t think that would be a bad idea, Princess,” Shiro cut in, stepping forward. “Not to mention that we need to fall back for repairs anyways--the castle took a few shots in that battle, didn’t it? A rendezvous in rebel space could buy us some time to repair it.” There was a collective gasp and then silence from the frog-aliens for a moment, and Shiro looked uncomfortable, but did not take his eyes off of Allura.

Allura nodded once, and turned back to Auv’op and the chastened Af’amm. “Captain Auv’op, if I may, it could be quite valuable to have an alliance between Voltron and your Cause. I’m sure we have information that could be useful to your fight, and it could be that you have information that could be critical to the fall of Zarkon and the Galra Empire. Would you be able to contact your leaders, and set up a meeting with us? Not to mention, that way we can get you and your cargo to a place where you can spread it among your people easily.” The earnest tone to her voice made her already compelling words almost impossible to deny--Lance was always amazed at Allura’s graceful way of speaking, and how she always seemed to know _exactly_ what to say. This was true even now, he saw, as the captain and her crew members widened their eyes.

“O-of course, Princess. The Cause would be more than happy to pool our knowing with that of Voltron, and surely the mixing of our waters will bring much prosperity to both of our kind. Let me see about sending a message to The Exodus and once we gain clearance we can set a course to bring us there.” Auv’op’s skin had flushed down to a more pink-orange color now, and Af’amm slunk back to where the rest of the crew sat, looking rather pleased with himself.

Lance, rather bored with the proceedings--Auv’op had focused most of her attention on Allura from the moment the rebels had had a moment to rest, and had been content to ignore the paladins and Coran--cast his eyes to the rest of the team. Coran had taken charge of assisting the crew members, seemingly unphased by the captain’s lack of acknowledgment, and the rest of the paladins had stayed in case they were needed. Pidge and Hunk were now chatting with some of the less injured crew, questioning them about the Galra attack, and Keith was tersely answering a few questions from a similarly curious alien about the lions. As Lance started to edge towards the door, he felt a chill rise up his spine, and turned to see Shiro’s disapproving glare; the black paladin shook his head slightly, meeting Lance’s eyes, and Lance heaved a massive sigh and nodded. Damn. Now he wasn’t going to be able to sneak out before getting his Talking To from Shiro. And asked uncomfortable questions about his performance today. Lance was _positive_ that Shiro was smart enough to connect the dots between the increasing frequency of his dashes to the bathroom due to the plant, and his coughing fit coupled with a few critical moments of being unable to pilot his lion.

Instead, Lance scooted over to where Pidge and Hunk were seated. They were asking a blue toad-like alien about the jammers the Galra had put on their ship, and why it had been a trap. The blue toad seemed dejected, running a comically large finger over his geometric bumps. “The Galra had chased us from the base we struck. We leapt as quickly as we could, but their guns got an unlucky shot on us--fried the tertiary engines and left us unable to reach maximum speed.” His throat swelled and he made a noise that, mentally, Lance categorized as a ‘ribbit’. “After that, they killed all of those in command except for Auv’op, and ordered her to summon our allies. Then they put those machines all over the interior and left. Only the SOS worked, and whatever their machines did, it kept us from broadcasting an actual video or message. Likely tampering with the machines summoned the Galra, but I am no engineer, so I would not know.”

Pidge asked where the engineers were, and left to speak with a third type of alien--these ones slimmer and longer. More like tadpoles halfway to frogs, or even salamanders. Hunk smiled at the toad. “Thanks, Yifv. I’m glad we got there in time.”

The toad--Yifv--nodded emphatically. “Yes, I am glad you rescued us. The Cause would suffer with the loss of so many supplies. I am thankful that you and the green fighter were able to save so many medical supplies. There are many worthy ones that die daily for lack of proper care. We suffer for their loss.” He closed both bulging eyes and sighed, making his nostrils flare uncomfortably wide. “Beg pardon, yellow fighter, but I should go. It would be unwise to refuse the chance to rest while I may.”

Hunk nodded in return, and turned to Lance as Yifv waddled away. Lance was struck by how tired Hunk looked, but then again...it had been a long day. They had been up before the ship had eased out of power-save mode and into daytime mode, and had jumped straight from training into fighting the Galra. “Well, another job well done by team Voltron,” Hunk said. “Hopefully this...’Cause’ as they keep calling it, capital-C and all, will turn out to be good for us. It would be nice to have allies to work with.”

“All in all, I think that went fairly well, to be honest. But...Hunk, I gotta ask. Is it just me, or is the captain _completely_ ignoring everyone but Allura? It’s not just me right?” Lance snuck a glance at the surviving rebels, who all looked exhausted. Could he just be conjuring up imaginary slights?

Hunk shook his head. “No, she pretty much walked through me. And the crew won’t quite look at Allura. There was quite a stir when the green one stepped forward. And when Shiro stopped to give his two cents...” Hunk made a noise. “Could hear a pin drop. Hey Coran, you know anything about these guys? You are our resident alien-expert, after all.” Hunk directed the question towards Coran, who had paused nearby for a rest.

Coran turned at his name and smiled. “Ah, yes. Spomians. I didn’t have much interaction with them, but they don’t seem to have lost _certain_ cultural quirks that I had been...warned about. Spomians have three distinct social classes. Topmost would be the _Hr’bamni_ , their leaders, scholars, and other positions of power. Next are the _Svh’iaya_ , the artisans, traders, and underlings of the _Hr’bamni_. And lastly are the _Aryshait_ , a warrior class.” He pointed in turn to Auv’op, one of the salamander-engineers, and Yifv in turn. “They treat Allura as a _Hr’bamni_ , and the paladin’s as Allura’s _Aryshait_. If you tried to speak to Auv’op, culturally she would not be able to respond unless it was a dire circumstance. So Af’amm’s direct speaking to Allura could have been quite the insult, you see.”

“That’s a bit kooky,” Lance said, wrinkling his brow. “So like, whether they have bumps or tails or not decides what...they’re going to do with their lives?” The thought didn’t quite sit right with him.

Coran shrugged nonchalantly. “Like I said, I never dealt too closely with Spomians. But they are hardly the first alien race to evolve for specific tasks, and to hear the Spomians tell it, it would be physically uncomfortable for a _Hr’bamni_ , for instance, to attempt to force their hands to do the delicate work of a _Svh’iaya_ , and while being an _Aryshait_ does not hinder an individual’s intelligence, Spomians believe their intelligence is more suited to combat and tactical situations--less long term thinkers and more short-term thinkers. It’s not terribly uncommon for races or subraces to be suited to one task, and one task only.”

Lance made a face, still uncomfortable with the thought. “Yeah but...whatever yeah.” He glanced around and saw that Shiro was now in deep discussion with Keith and Af’amm, Shiro probably having caught on to some social cue or the other. Keith no longer looked so uncomfortable; in fact, he seemed to be almost eagerly participating in the conversation, his brows no longer stuck in their permanent scowl. It was a pleasant surprise, and enough to make Lance pause for a moment to take it in, before continuing onward. “Hey, Hunk. I need you to do a massive favor for me.” Lance gave his friend his best puppy dog eyes as Hunk glanced to where he’d been looking.

Hunk turned back to Lance with a somewhat guarded expression. “It depends on what the favor is...”

“Oh, c’mon. Just--when Shiro comes looking for me, tell him I’m in my room, yeah? I know he’s probably super pissed about today but I’m exhausted and don’t really want to hang around where I can’t add much.”

“Oh. Yeah I can do that buddy. I won’t be able to keep him from busting in or having Pidge unlock your door if you fall asleep, though. You do look a little tired. Go get some rest before you get chewed out.” Hunk glanced back in the direction, eyes singling out Shiro as Lance hastily took advantage of Hunk being willing to mitigate Shiro’s anger. He practically ran to his room, throwing his armor on the floor--he’d clean it later--followed by his undersuit and sweat-soaked clothes. He did shimmy into his pajamas, just in case Shiro did barge in. Just in case.

He had just a moment to wonder ‘ _What had Hunk thought I was going to ask?_ ’’ Then he was asleep, his eyelids fluttering closed.

\--------

Shiro was less upset by the time he got to Lance’s room. Lance wasn’t sure how long Shiro was outside his door, knocking and trying to get his attention before Lance woke up. Groggily he coughed and shuffled over to his door, pressing the panel. “Shiro, god, I left it unlocked. That’s why I had Hunk tell you where I went.” Lance stepped aside to let Shiro in, and sat down on his bed. God he felt terrible. Lance hadn’t been sleeping the best lately, but his whole chest and stomach was sore as _fuck_. Probably from all the coughing. Breathing and feeling his ribs slightly expand caused a whole symphony of painful and complaining muscles, and Lance groaned as he looked up at Shiro. God, the man was still in full armor--had he come here straight from the debriefing? How long had Lance been out?

Shiro had that look on his face that broadcast that he was upset, but Lance could see that the expression had frozen somewhat, fighting with concern. Lance might have laughed--seeing Shiro struggle between being leader and being a mother-hen--except for the fact that Lance _could not handle_ Shiro’s concern on top of his own worries about this whole situation. Lance ran a hand through his hair and met Shiro’s gaze. He took a breath, and plunged forward.

“Ok, Shiro, I know you came here to yell at me. That was really bad timing back there. I--I know, Shiro let me talk. You don’t _need_ to tell me. Yes, its the stupid alien thing, _yes_ I’ve talked with Coran about it, and _no_ there’s nothing I can do right now. Coran seems pretty adamant that it’ll just take time.” Lance raised a hand as Shiro made to cut him off, and continued. “I trust Coran--how many times would I be _dead_ if it weren’t for freaky Altean healing-juju?” Lies. He was worried. He was frightened, if he let himself think that far. He didn’t.

Shiro hissed out a sigh. “Lance. I know you want to keep this quiet around the rest of the team, but if its going to start affecting you in battle, you _need_ to tell everyone else so that we can plan for this. Make everyone aware so that we have your back if its going to happen. I know this makes you uncomfortable, I know that you don’t want to worry Hunk, but...” Shiro raised a hand helplessly. “We can’t afford to have you drop out of battle randomly. This is the _first_ time it’s affect you in combat, but how do you know its going to be the last?”

Lance swallowed thickly, and realized that he had to make a decision. He could tell Hunk, Pidge and Keith, and have this whole thing suddenly become much more _real_ than it had been--up until now Lance was sort of dealing with and thinking about the plant only when it was necessary: like when he was coughing up petals, and the bit of cleanup needed to make sure no one else knew. But...if he told the team...it wouldn’t be the sort of _out-of-sight-out-of-mind_ situation that he was keeping it in now. Or...he could lie to Shiro. Both thoughts made his gut sink.

“Shiro. I don’t think this is going to be a repeat thing. Like I said, I’ve been talking with Coran--he did scans, you can ask him--” the words began pouring out of Lance almost desperately, the lies blooming in his throat very much like the flowers that plagued him. “It’s pretty small, and Coran says its dying. It’s been happening a lot, but its because its less and less each time--harder to get out. I really _really_ don’t want to get everyone upset over this, right when its finally tapering off.” He knew that his eyes were stinging with tears that had welled up, unbidden, saw Shiro’s brow wrinkle, saw his leader hesitate. Saw something like guilt cross over Shiro’s face.

Shiro sighed. “Okay Lance. But this happens again, we’re telling the rest of the team. I still think Pidge might be able to help figure out how to get rid of this thing faster. And I’m concerned about you. You don’t look like you’ve been sleeping as well, you haven’t been benefiting from full training sessions, you haven’t been eating as much. Don’t think I don’t notice you leaving meals early.”

“Actually, I’ve been eating about twice as much, just in smaller portions. I don’t know why, but I get full faster, and then two hours later I’m hungry again. Bless Hunk’s soul, he’s been slipping me food every couple of hours. Sympathetic to the hunger-pangs, I guess.” Was he babbling? Yeah, he was babbling.

Shiro looked less than convinced, even though it was the truth, this time. “Remember, if it happens again, _I’m_ telling the team. No ifs, ands, or buts. Now...get some more sleep, if you can.”

“Yeah, I think I can do that.”

Shiro left, his armored boots clicking on the castle floor. Lance flopped back on his bed, but sleep wouldn’t come as easily to Lance as it had before. Restlessly, he tossed and turned, before he became aware that his stomach was growling. Glancing at the time display, it looked like it was pretty late actually--past midnight, castle-time. Had the meeting gone on that long? Or had he fallen asleep after all?

Regardless, Lance stood and stepped into his blue lion slippers, shuffling to the kitchen. While he would have preferred Hunk’s solid treats--little baked goods or saved sides from previous dinners--Lance had little patience, and was already considering sprinkling some of that stupidly sweet alien spice on the goo and pretending it was a cake or something. His mind was occupied when he entered, so it took Lance a moment to realize that the kitchen wasn’t empty. Keith was sitting in his casual clothes, staring down at a half-empty bowl.

“Oh, hey.” Keith looked up sharply at the lackluster greeting, his whole body flinching as if he expected an attack. “Woah, down tiger. Easy. I just want some food, don’t kill me!”

“Lance.” Keith frowned. “It’s late. What are you doing here?” 

“I could ask you the same thing. I know I left that whole meeting early, but it _can’t_ have drug on that long.” Lance joked as he walked past, grabbing a bowl and making some food. Keith made a neutral noise, and then blinked, turning to face Lance with a decidedly strange look on his face. Lance blinked and looked around questioningly. “Uh, do I have something on my face?”

Keith’s cheeks were a bit pink as he quickly shook his head. “N-no. Your perfume or shampoo or whatever, its just really strong.” He cleared his throat and looked down at his own bowl, which was partially eaten. Lance looked at Keith suspiciously, spoon frozen halfway to scooping up a bite of his sweetened midnight snack. Lance used the same generic space-soap that the rest of the paladins used, although he _had_ managed to gather a large collection of beauty products, some of which did smell quite strongly. He just hadn’t used any of them before falling asleep the first time. Or had he just forgotten about putting it on? Lance dismissed the thought--that must have been it.

“Oh, well I hope its a good kind of strong and not a bad one. Some stuff I’ve gotten my paws on smells...well, less than pleasant.” Lance chuckled and tried a bite of the goo, and then frowned and turned, dumping more of Pidge’s favorite sweet seasoning on top, stirring, and trying again. Ah, much better. It was so sweet it practically melted on his tongue, the space-sugar overpowering the unpleasant flavor, if not texture, of the goo completely. He could almost pretend it was pudding or something.

“Mm, yeah it’s not really bad.” Keith pushed his bowl to the side and looked away from Lance, his eyes dancing around from thing to thing, suddenly not meeting Lance’s gaze. “Hey...is everything okay? You don’t usually lose control of Blue like that.” Those words usually would send Lance into a defensive position, given the sharp edges that Keith usually applied to everything he said. But here, in the dim kitchen, in that strange between-times of somewhere at night but before morning, they were just words. The concerned question of a teammate.

Hearing those words, with that soft, concerned note in Keith’s voice made Lance’s chest tighten painfully. His sore muscles complained, and his breath caught for a moment. Lance managed to shake his head, feeling a dangerous thought forming. He rushed to answer, dispelling it before it could come to fruition in his mind. “Fine! Just unlucky, I think. Bad timing. Over-corrected and couldn’t get control back fast enough.” His voice sounded rough, and Keith’s violet eyes were suddenly meeting his, something dim and concerned in their depths. Lance found himself unable to look away from Keith, found even his never-ending internal dialogue drowned out by the suddenly too-loud beating of his heart. He knew he should look away, but here, now, in this half-time and half-space, the ticks seemed to slide on endlessly, with no real beginning or end. Something in Keith’s expression changed slightly, and Lance saw his eyes soften briefly. There seemed to be something hanging in the air between them that wasn’t the words that Lance had just said. Something like a weight, sinking lower as the seconds passed by.

Something...strange happened then. The thought bubbled up into Lance’s mind again, a thought he usually wouldn’t _allow_ himself to think. A dangerous thought, here in this twilight time. ‘ _Keith...is really gorgeous._ ’ Lance was transfixed, almost like he was with that damn flower on Teswillion, unable to look away. Keith’s eyelashes were like...really long. They brushed his cheek and fluttered almost delicately when he blinked. Lance remembered what had happened when he was transfixed in that flowering jungle...

The thought, unbidden, came: ‘ _What would happen this time?_ ’ He shivered, ever so slightly, and breathed out a slow, shaky breath.

Keith inhaled sharply, and Lance watched as color blossomed in Keith’s face, watched his eyes widen and his mouth open slightly. Then his face grew pale. And then, suddenly, the tension between them snapped, the spell broken, the bubble popped, as Keith stood abruptly, and jerkily turned. Without a word, but with a horrified expression, Keith fled, leaving behind his half-eaten food and Lance.

Lance, who felt like his chest was so tight it was going to explode, felt like each beat of his heart would be the last. And then abruptly time caught up, almost like it was going _too fast_ now. God how stupid _was_ he? He had just...stared at Keith like some sort of weirdo. How _long_ had he just stared? Just a couple seconds? Like, an entire minute? Longer? His face grew hotter, and suddenly Lance was crying.

Keith’s face...Lance had been staring at his face, and so he had seen the sudden jarring expression change, from that soft expression to horror. Keith had _clearly_ been able to read something in Lance’s face, and it had made him so uncomfortable that he _ran away_. Keith! Run away! Hot tears dripped down onto the bowl of sweet goo that Lance suddenly was not hungry for anymore. One of his hands settled over his mouth as he struggled to keep his breathing even, force down the sobs that were trying to claw out of his chest. And then to keep down the sudden nausea that roiled through him, and the uncomfortable feeling of something catching in his throat, propelled by his hitching breath.

Lance had fucked up, he’d let something slip without meaning to. Keith had just been trying to be friendly and Lance had gone and been _super weird_ about it. First the whole--shower thing--now this! Now he could never talk to Keith the same. Lance had _fucked it up_ and now there was probably no going back. This moment would always hang over both of them uncomfortably. Lance hadn’t even really come to terms with--with this. With how he felt about Keith. And now it was over. Because yes, _now_ Lance could admit to himself that there was something to it. He felt... _something_. It was an uncomfortable admittance to himself, that maybe, _just maybe_ he had a crush on Keith. That whole wordless exchange...it hadn’t meant anything.

Lance wanted it to have meant something.

Lance swallowed a sob, his chest prickling with pain as his cough-sore muscles protested the movement. Suddenly he was choking on the over-sweet smell of the goo, and stood abruptly. As an afterthought, he put Keith’s discarded dishes away too. But the scent lingered in the air, so sweet it was almost sickening. Sweet like decay.

The thought was enough to send him over the edge, and Lance keeled over, heaving. Tears streamed down his face as his throat was almost rubbed raw by the speed of the petals he was retching out. It wasn’t until he was choking and gasping over the pile that Lance realized something was different. It wasn’t just petals. There had been lumps--Lance had thought he was just vomiting too. It wouldn’t be the first time. But no, the petals were slick with fluid, but thankfully he had kept his meager amount of goo inside him. No, the lumps had been buds, small and tightly furled. And there were larger things as well--blossoms. Entire whole flowers.

Lance fell to his knees, shaking. No. No, no, no, no.

The petals were roughly an inch long and wide, faintly tear-drop shaped. A single bloom had several petals, all connecting to a tiny bud in the center. The petals were a vibrant red, and towards the center, they deepened to a sunset purple. Piled on top of each other and the mess of petals as they were, Lance thought he knew what flower they reminded him of, finally. Although such a vibrant shade had likely never been seen on earth, it looked like a flower he was very familiar with. It had been his mama’s favorite flower.

Hydrangea. Flower of the water.

A shiver worked through him, not just from the lingering sickness. There were more. More petals. Whole flowers. It was getting worse. No matter what Coran had told him, the flowers were getting worse. Lance had known all along. He had known, had been terrified that Coran was wrong. Hadn’t he doubted so many times? And now here was proof. This pile of petals and handful of entire blossoms was larger, all in all, than the blurry smudge that Coran had showed him from that scan. And that had been just a few weeks ago? There had been no pain so far, aside from the pain of muscles sore from too much retching, sore knuckles from tightening his fist too tight, sore throat from things going up instead of down, the usual pains that Lance would associate with being sick in general. But now Lance knew that it would not be long before he knew _exactly_ what kind of pain Coran was concerned about Lance experiencing. There had always been something about the way Coran’s expression became carefully cheerful when Lance tried to shift the conversation to his worries that had made Lance aware that whatever Coran was afraid of, it was pretty bad.

Allura didn’t know the extent, he knew. She didn’t get that guarded expression when Lance showed discomfort or touched his throat or chest. Shiro didn’t either, although he looked concerned, knowing that Lance was still sick. No, it just had to be Coran. Lance felt cold shiver through him, and stared at the petals. They were so beautiful. They reminded him of his mama. It wasn’t fair.

Lance was afraid.

He was afraid he was dying. No, more than afraid. He was suddenly _sure_ he was. It hit him like a hammer, like a shot he wasn’t expecting. If he had been able to suck in a whole breath between the sobs that were working their way out of his mouth, past the hyperventilation, it would have been knocked out of him. He was dying. He was going to die. He’d never see Earth, see his family again. Unless of course, he told team Voltron. But, with a choked sob, Lance realized exactly what Voltron pulling back to bring him home might mean. It could bring the Galra Empire’s attention down to their home planet. As it was, Earth had just been the hiding place of the Blue Lion, and where Shiro had come from. If Votlron were spotted by it, though...it could become a target. Or a hostage.

Not to mention that these new rebel allies...they could do some real good alongside of Voltron. Working together could, at the very least, liberate a chunk that could _defend itself_ for once, without the threat of Voltron being too far away to help if the Empire actually struck. Even if Voltron was able to just drop Lance off at home, he realized, he could never sit well with dying quietly. No, Lance wanted to go out with a bang. Heroes had a glorious death. Heroes died for a reason, for a cause.

If Lance was dying he wanted his death to mean something.

Lance gathered up every last petal and blossom. They did not go down the waste chute this time. There was no need. The fear of death, of pain was still there. But these flowers were a symbol to him now. Each petal that slipped between his lips would be another symbol of his determination, another nail in the coffin.

Instead, Lance let the petals drop into a box. He allowed himself to admire them for a bittersweet moment, and then he slid the lid over the box, and carried it to his room. He placed it carefully on his desk. It seemed so normal, sitting there, as if his certain doom wasn’t encased inside. Lance went to his bed, and closed his eyes.

Sleep did not come for him that night.

\----------

Lance went through his morning routine as if nothing were wrong. If he did everything _just so_ he could almost convince himself that everything were normal. Fake it till you make it, right? He was tired and sore, though, and his beauty products could only do so much to hide the fact that he had hardly slept. The smile on his face had been genuine as he slipped into the kitchen, however. Hunk was cooking breakfast and filled Lance in on the details of what he’d missed; not a whole lot, mostly just discussion between Auv’op and Allura on where to take the castle-ship. With Allura’s ability to open the wormhole, they could, for all intents and purposes, literally pop into space by the Cause’s main ship and mobile base, which turned out to be The Exodus that had been brought up several times last night by the crew. But Auv’op still had to contact her superiors and obtain permission to approach, and go through hoops to assure that the castle-ship wouldn’t be attacked on sight and assure the other rebels that this wasn’t some sort of Galra trap.

Sometime halfway through breakfast, Lance felt the distinctive feeling of the ship passing through a wormhole. Hunk looked up and grinned. “They must have reached some sort of agreement. I’m sure we’ll have a meeting soon. Better eat up.” Lance made an affirmative noise and turned his attention to the alien hash that Hunk set down in front of him--despite having various things that he didn’t really recognize, it _smelled_ great. “I did my best to lessen the, ah, alien-ness of it. It tastes pretty good, don’t let the colors fool you.”

Lance poked something purple with his fork before closing his eyes and popping it in his mouth. He grinned at Hunk, eyes opening as he realized not only did it not taste bad, but had a decent texture as well. He tried another alien delicacy and let out a sigh. “You’re a miracle worker Hunk.” Hunk, who had fixed himself a plate and was busy wolfing it down, paused to shoot Lance a thumbs-up. Things felt almost normal for a moment.

But then his mood took a sharp turn for the worse, when Keith--freshly showered, and looking about twice as bad as Lance himself felt--stopped dead in the kitchen door. Lance had looked up at the sound of footsteps, a smile already half on his face, ready to inform whichever teammate it was that Hunk had done it again, but it died on his lips as Keith’s too-wide eyes flicked around the room, his eyebrows sunk into a sullen expression. Suddenly it was hours earlier, the room dim, the tension thick in the air. Keith’s eyes met his, and then, with a flash of some strong emotion, Keith turned away. Lance felt as if a chasm opened under him--if he hadn’t already been sitting, he probably would have sunk to the floor under the sudden weight that settled over him. The food he had been eating suddenly no longer appealed as much.

‘I never had a chance, did?’ 

“What’s up with Keith?” Hunk asked, giving Lance a confused look, which grew somewhat suspicious as he took in Lance’s suddenly tight posture. Lance forced himself to smile and shrugged nonchalantly. It felt wooden and stiff. Mechanically, he picked up his fork and shoved a mouthful of food in.

“Dunno, man. Maybe he got his ass kicked by the bots and didn’t expect anyone to be in here?” It was a blatant lie, but what was Lance supposed to say? That he had let his crush that he hadn’t known about until last night get the best of him? That he had weirded out prickly Keith by soulfully staring at him for time that felt like an eternity but was probably just an awkwardly long momet? Lance was sure the lie fell flat, but Hunk slowly nodded, seeming to accept the excuse. Lance ate as much food as he could force himself to, feeling a deep ache in his chest. At this point, he wasn’t sure if it was from his scarcely acknowledged and very confused feelings for Keith, or the flowers that were slowly killing him from the inside. And really, did it matter? It hurt, regardless.

Lance breathed in slowly through his nose, and pushed his half-full plate away. “God, Hunk, you’re like the best cook in the galaxy, but I just have not been super hungry lately. Can you help me heat this up later? I know I’ll be hungry in a few hours.”

“Still eating like a bird, Lance?” Hunk shook his head. “I approve of the constant snacking, but really, you should eat more at a time. Any sort of emergency happens and you’re running on like, less than a quarter tank of gas.”

“Still, I can’t help it! Maybe its all the goo. I just fill up faster.” Lance shrugged, and was halfway through storing the plate in what was essentially an Altean fridge when a screen popped up with Allura’s face on it.

“Lance, Hunk, if you could come to the bridge please, we’re going to have a meeting in a few doboshes to go over some things.”

“Right away, most lovely Princess,” Lance snapped, giving a half-bow and attempting a flirtatious smile. It didn’t reach his eyes, but seemed to make Hunk a bit less suspicious, given that his bigger friend snorted and stood, clapping a hand on Lance’s shoulders. The screen flickered off with a roll of Allura’s eyes.

“Lance, buddy. Your game is weak.” Hunk teased, putting his plate on a counter to be cleaned. Lance sputtered indignantly and pushed Hunk, who returned the rough-housing. They pushed and jostled each other all the way to the bridge, and Lance had a smile on his face as everyone filed in, although it wilted as Keith stiffly walked in after them, leaning on the wall directly to the side of the door, a dark expression on his face. When Keith saw Lance looking, he pointedly turned his face away, and Lance felt his shoulders droop before he turned to face Allura and Shiro, who didn’t seem to notice Keith’s anger with the blue paladin.

“Alright, paladins,” Allura began, “We are now in rebel space, in orbit alongside The Exodus, which is the mobile base of the Cause. It is mainly Spomians in the Cause, so we need to be careful when it comes to their ways. They have a caste-system that is fairly specific. They consider the paladins to be of their warrior class, and it is a grave insult for a warrior to address a leader in anything other than an emergency. As such, to avoid, ah, _political issues_ , I’m leaving all of you here on the castle-ship while Coran and I board The Exodus for talks.”

“Princess,” Shiro began, “I still think you should have them come onto the ship, or at least take a paladin with you. Or have this meeting over the comms. It wouldn’t be the first time...”

“No, Shiro. It is important for us to value the customs of our allies, and it would reflect poorly on me to bring a warrior among our allies Not to mention that Auv’op and her crew members were highly scandalized by your interjection last night.” Allura grinned slightly, and straightened, her hands going to her hip, where Lance knew her battle-staff was stored, like how the paladin’s armor stored the bayard. “I am not foolish, nor am I incapable. That is why Coran is coming with me. If there is even the slightest hint of trouble, you will all be alerted. For now, though, there is much to be gained from a potential alliance with the Cause, and very little to be lost. You know as well as I that Voltron is more than capable of retrieving me, should all else fail.”

And that was the end of that. Although Shiro tried to convince Allura to change her plans or to allow a paladin to come with her, when the princess made up her mind there was no changing it. The next several vargas were spent with the paladins milling about the ship after dropping off the survivors and their medicine cargo to the Exodus. Lance didn’t want to start doing something, only to have to rush to his lion in an emergency, so he settled himself in the Blue Paladin’s chair on the bridge, anxiously staring out the viewport at the distant shape of the Exodus, while his teammates scattered to try and keep themselves busy.

Lance wasn’t the only one with the idea of coming to the bridge, however. Not long after he had settled himself down into the chair, the doors slid open. Lance turned, halfway expecting Hunk or Shiro--the former to entice him away, the latter to fret. Instead it was Keith. ‘ _And he does not look happy to see me_ ,’ Lance thought, seeing Keith’s expression freeze, the red paladin stopping in place.

“Well, fancy meeting you here,” The words lacked Lance’s usual ease--they seemed stiff. Unsuiting to the moment. Lance saw Keith flinch, as if the sound of his voice were a weapon. Keith’s eyes--violet, soft--were tightened as if in pain, the same sort of pain that tightened Lance’s throat. No, of course things would be strained. Lance had given too much away last night, bared his feelings with that prolonged glance. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Carefully allowing his eyes to drift upwards, towards the glass view of space, he breathed,“If you’re looking for Shiro, I think he’s in his room, pacing.”

Keith nodded stiffly. “Yeah. I was. Thanks.” Clipped and forced, the words fell like stones. Lance pretended not to care as Keith turned away, pretended not to see how his shoulders rose and his face twisted, as Keith walked away.

‘ _At least he’s not running away from me this time,_ ’ Lance thought forlornly, ‘ _As if I were some sort of monster to be feared._ ’

Lance turned his gaze back to the Spomian rebel ship, and tried to convince himself that things were going to turn out okay. He was dying. The thought hurt, but he clung to it, almost as if it were a saving grace. It was better this way. Better that Keith rejected his feelings--was seemingly horrified by them. That way Keith wouldn’t be too hurt when Lance--died.

Despite that, Lance found his mind wandering down painful fantasies. Fantasies where Keith had not run away last night, where instead he had met Lance’s eyes with a hesitant smile. Lance flopped back in his seat and looked up into the stars, past the ship. They were endless, and distant. Cold comfort for Lance, but comfort nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! This one took me longer. Things branched a bit from my original outline, and I had to really deliberate whether I wanted to keep things the way they were happening or go back and rewrite closer to the outline. I decided to take the time to buckle down and edit my outline a little bit, so I apologize for the somewhat longer wait time on this!
> 
> Again, no sex this time. Its hard to slip in a steamy sex scene when Lance is spending 80% of his time vomiting or panicking about a parasitic space-plant, and the other 20% realizing that he has an uber crush on Keith--and seems to have fucked it up.
> 
> Next chapter: Things turn out good with the Spomian rebels, and Team Voltron gets some good tips from their new allies. All these strenuous missions and heavy fighting _can't_ be good for poor Lance, though.


	4. Quickening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance's strength is deteriorating. Something goes horribly wrong during a mission.
> 
> We see why Keith has been running away so much.

Things fell back into a semblance of their crazy routine after that first meeting with the Spomian rebels. A semblance, of course, but not the actuality. Things were different; like little spots of wrongness that lingered just at the edges of Lance’s perception. There, but not there when he looked directly. Like mirages in the desert. To be honest, Lance was somewhat _amazed_ that the other paladins hadn’t noticed that something was wrong. That something was _different_. It made Lance a little nervous to think that perhaps most of the changes were in _him_ , and not his fellow paladins.

Of course, it could just be that everyone was exhausted from mission after mission, and that their new ‘routine’ was ruthlessly making use of the data gathered by the Cause; stealing supplies, making raids to steal yet _more_ data. Saving prisoners and sabotaging Galran outposts. As Allura had happily told the paladins after the initial meeting with the rebels, the Cause had been fighting the Galra from the moment that their home planet and colonies were enslaved, and it showed in their intel. The amphibious race, despite its odd caste system, was highly resistant to Galran rule, and numerous enough to be able to hold their own little corner of the universe. Of course, that would mean very little if Zarkon decided to bring the full force of his fleets down upon the amphibian rebels, but for the moment the Galran Empire thought little enough of the frog-aliens to allow them their territory for now.

On the one hand, Lance was appreciative of the sudden increase in Voltron activity; none of them knew how Zarkon was tracking them, and bustling from one section of the universe to another, taking advantage of the castle’s extreme mobility and unpredictability meant that the Cause had not had to fight off Galran warships yet. And kept the paladins as a sort of special strike-force, since the Spomians had been distraught at the thought of the Galra sending ships to the direct location of The Exodus. Not to mention it made Lance feel like he was _doing something_. On the other hand, however, Lance was getting _really tired_ of being run ragged.

And maybe it was the constant missions and the overhanging threat of Zarkon appearing suddenly one day and ruining a critical mission, but Lance was feeling exhausted. Training sessions were mostly skipped by him, because of a lingering fatigue, and he swung wildly between falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow from sheer exhaustion, and a strange inability to fall asleep. He played it off like it was simply overworking that was making him so tired. But maybe it was the knowledge of his... _condition_ that was causing a growing distance between him and the other paladins. Lance put a good face on it, of course, but he felt himself growing further apart, that secret knowledge driving a wedge between his friends and him. And it was disheartening, to say the least.

And then there was Keith. On the surface their dynamic hadn’t changed much. But Lance could tell that it had, and very much so. He was...hypersensitive to Keith, all of his senses on high alert, focused on the red paladin in a way that it _definitely_ had not been before. So Lance could tell the difference now, in the coldness to Keith’s words, instead of heat. The over-long pauses, the fact that Keith never met his eyes anymore, always sat far away from Lance, and often ghosted out of rooms if Lance found himself in the same room as him. If Lance hadn’t been so...obsessed with Keith he probably wouldn’t have noticed. Because, Lance was finding, Keith seemed to have a magical _talent_ for just...bringing himself away from the foreground.

It was almost hard for Lance to wrap his mind around it, how _good_ the other teen was at slipping away. At _hiding_. Keith had, to Lance’s mind, always been someone in the forefront. Loud and angry and hot and fiery, bright and demanding to not be ignored. But, of course, when Lance bothered to think about it, Keith had...never really been that. Keith’s actions drew attention because Keith didn’t care enough to mask them. Even back at the Galaxy Garrison, Keith had rubbed Lance the wrong way, so much _better_ so _easily_ , and so _unrepentant_ that he was just naturally good. Keith had flown as easy as he breathed, and his nonchalance over that fact had made Lance feel like he was being haughty or superior, particularly when his temper flared or he lashed out at fellow cadets. But now Lance was able to look back and see that it hadn’t been bragging or posturing--flying was just Keith’s natural state, and whenever he wasn’t flying he was daring the world to do its worst.

Lance tried to tell himself each time that it was just his imagination--that Keith was just extra prickly from the extra missions. But Lance could tell from the deepening shadows under Keith’s eyes and the unhappy, almost angry expression that seemed to be Keith’s resting state that it wasn’t. And after all, hadn’t Lance just come face-to-face with denial twice now? He had been up close and personal with pushing away his own feelings and fears to know what that felt like. But especially lately, he was just...too tired to deal with it.

But at least they were busy. Being busy meant that Lance could focus his mind on the mission and sink himself down into a state where nothing mattered except the next step, the next victory. He makes Keith-level impulsive decisions, risky maneuvers, and usually pulls them off. Because why should he be afraid of death? After all, he knew it was coming. And with each new petal and blossom that joined its peers in the box he kept them, he knew that death was getting closer.

The color of the blossoms was evening out, now. The purple creeping downwards, the red brightening until the tips were a faint yellow-orange and the petals flared like a glorious sunrise. The new flowers, twice as big now as the first time he choked up an entire blossom, reminded him of fire. Which reminded him of Keith. 

\----------

Lanced breathed heavily, his eyes darting around him. His comms crackled uselessly, and his heart was thudding painfully in his chest. His breath hitched and caught unevenly as he licked his lips, deliberating. Hunk was probably still hung up distracting the Galra soldiers--soldiers, not drones--that were inexplicably stationed at this seemingly small and pointless Galra outpost. The plan had hinged very tightly off of Pidge being able to remotely hack the consoles in this outpost, and guide Lance to the heart of it. What they hadn’t bet on was the sheer _amount_ of Galra soldiers here, and the fact that, seemingly, the outpost had some sort of signal jammer.

Lance shifted from foot to foot, feeling his breath pick up, adrenaline coursing through him. The deliberation--taking only a few moments--was already too long. A soldier appeared in the doorway to the room Lance had ducked into, kicking the half-broken door to the side with a snarl. The Galra rushed Lance, with some sort of bladed knuckle weapon slashing towards him like claws. Lance shot from the hip, unable to really get his bayard up in time to take true aim, but the Galra’s scream was enough to let Lance know he’d hit.

The paladins had an emergency plan, of course--if Lance and Hunk ran into trouble, they just had to back out of the compound, and the others would pull back from their current mission to brute-force their way through. But...Lance knew that their current mission of data retrieval was just as if not more important than his mission to steal whatever chunk of technology was being worked on here.

The fallen Galra, rasping a growl, reached for his blaster.

‘ _I’ve gotta get out of here. Change of plans._ ’

Lance darted past the fallen Galra, feeling unable to send a finishing shot at the writhing, bleeding, hissing form on the ground. Tersely tuning out the sound, Lance took off down the hall at a run. Okay. He didn’t need Pidge. He knew more or less what he was trying to do, and the sooner he could get into the heart of the compound, the sooner he’d be able to find the machine they’d come here for.

Laser fire lit up the walls of the hallway, originating from behind him. Distantly, Lance could hear the sounds of shouting, and the rapid-fire machine gun spray of Hunk’s bayard, echoing down the corridors and twisting as it went, so that only a caricature of the fighting reached Lance. With a soft curse, he continued in the opposite direction, taking lefts and rights mostly on instinct, his eyes darting ahead of him, testing the shadows for enemies or doorways.

The sound of pounding footsteps alerted Lance long before the shadows of Galra rushing down the hallway showed that enemies were on the way. Lance dropped onto a knee, taking aim down the hallway, and waited until the last second to shoot. The world seemed to slow down as he let a breath slide out of him, steadying his bayard and squeezing the trigger in quick succession. The streaks of deadly light lit the semi-darkness of the outpost as they flew, and Lance heard the sickening sound of blood splattering and the shout of Galra soldiers. Two lay uselessly on the ground, clutching at wounds.

Three rushed towards Lance, their own weapons drawn. Lance hurled himself to the side, rolling and shooting wildly in their direction. The walls sizzled and smoked as the shots went wide, and Lance cursed, lining up his next shot more carefully. The front-most Galra, fumbling to draw a sword, screamed and went down, blood gushing out of his blasted knee. The next one yelped and dropped his blaster as Lance managed to clip his hand, but the third managed to squeeze off a successful hit.

This time it was Lance who cried out, as searing pain bubbled on his shoulder, sending throbbing shocks of blinding white fire through his body. Gritting his teeth, Lance tried not to see as his last shot burned through the Galra’s chest, trying to force the gurgling cries out of his mind. He stood, hissing as he felt his suit shift, and blood gush down his arm. _Shit_. That wasn’t good. Still breathing heavily, Lance finished off the Galra that had managed to pick his blaster back up. Then Lance, clutching just under the fresh wound on his shoulder, darted past them. Blood, dark as black in the half-light of these hallways was slowly dripping over his hand, and he still wasn’t sure where he was.

“Quiznack! Where is this _stupid_ central lab, anyways?” Lance coughed harshly, a flurry of petals landing on the ground, forcing himself to keep going. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears, his vision seemingly pulsing in time with it, and although adrenaline was starting to numb the pain, Lance knew that he was on a short timer before he had to get out of here. Fruitlessly, he tried the comms again, cursing as only static answered him.

Feeling desperate, Lance charged down the hallways recklessly, rushing past two hallways with Galra pelting towards him. He shot distractedly at them, but most of his attention was on trying to find a door--any door! He _had_ to be close. No-- _fuck_ it was locked! Lance heard footsteps behind him, and fired at the panel by the door, glancing behind him. The door, sparking, opened, and Lance instantly pried it open, jumping into the darkness beyond the broken door. It slid partially shut behind him, the sparks illuminating the room only briefly. Lance hastily pressed himself against the wall, hearing the thud of the Galra. He shakily raised his bayard with his uninjured arm, and waited, holding his breath without realizing. As the Galra rushed past, he breathed out a sigh of relief.

Bluish the sparks jumping off of the door lit up the room in bright but short-lived spurts, Lance realized that this _had_ to be the lab. The octagonal room was sterile and white, with several tables and counters set up with complicated alien technology, in heaps and messes similar to how Pidge kept her lion’s hangar. Lance lifted his bayard, and flicked on the flashlight, the cool Altean aqua lighting bringing out the various half-built machines and weapons into stark contrast.

The room looked like the result of a madman given free reign, and it was with a mixture of both awe and disgust that Lance paced down the counters, which all seemed to spiral in towards a central open space. There weren’t just scientific bits, though. Runes carved onto various stones, shards of long-dead crystals were intermixed freely with handfuls of bone, feathers and scales. Lance recoiled from an alien hand somehow preserved in a cylinder, the thick glass and fluid warping it to look grotesque. But nothing matching the description that Pidge had given him.

Then Lance came to the center of the room. Something clicked as he stepped forward, and Lance jumped back, clumsily aiming his rifle one-handed at the source of the noise, as light stuttered awake in the floor. Lance watched wide-eyed as a hexagon lit up in the sickly purple color of Galran light and magic--almost a parody of the Altean blue runners everywhere on the castle. And then, with a soft grating noise, the lit-up section of floor began to...rise.

Pale lavender light illuminated the underneath and somehow kept in suspension the very machine that Lance had been sent to find. It was diamond-shaped, but had sickly pulses of druid-magic visible just underneath of the black outer casing. It was seamless, and roughly the size of Lance’s rifle. He reached in with his injured arm, grunting and then hissing in pain as it weighed down on it, pulling at both his suit and his wound. Lance awkwardly supported the diamond with the other, uninjured arm, his bayard vanishing into his suit. There was _no way_ he was going to be able to have both his rifle out _and_ carry this mysterious bit of Galra weaponry.

So, gritting his teeth, Lance peeked out of the broken door, and set about retracing his steps. The thing seemed to weigh more and more the longer Lance went, and he was sure he took a few wrong turns, trying to find his way back out again. His ears strained for the sound of pursuit or a patrol, but a headache was starting to pound at his temples, and his arm was screaming in pain, his muscles crying out in protest at the weight, his legs burning from the effort of maintaining this speed long after his stamina could endure. Blood oozed out of his arm wound, a slick and dark reminder of how quickly time was running out. Slowing to as fast a walk as he could manage, not wanting to be still in this warren of interconnecting tunnels for too long, Lance struggled to keep his composure, but each hallway looked very much the same as the next. His mind raced. What if he were ambushed? He was already wounded, quickly losing blood...he couldn’t fight off more than a few Galra now...

Where was Hunk? Lance padded onward, clutching the magic-filled machine that he had come here to steal. He didn’t even know what it was. What it did. Only that it was a powerful weapon, and highly dangerous if the Galra were somehow able to successfully remake it. From what Lance had heard Allura and Coran talking about, in snippets of conversation that usually slipped into Altean, the intel from the Cause implied it was dangerous...and perhaps familiar to the Alteans.

After the first few intersections, Lance felt his energy waver. After the third, he felt a shiver of fear. After the fourth, he steeled himself. He _would_ do this. The blue paladin was hardly the strongest member of the team--Lance attributed that to Shiro, who withstood _so much_ and still managed to stand tall--but Lance found himself still going, long after he would have given up before. But whatever source of hidden willpower was fading by the time he hit the sixth intersection, eyes darting around for any sort of sign of previous passage. Any spot of spilled blood, either Galran or Human, any sign of plasma or laser fire peppering the walls. His arms shook from the weight of the mystery weapon, and he felt desperate.

Then Lance felt it--a sort of tingling at the back of his mind. A faint pulling sensation, tugging him until he turned. Without thinking, Lance trotted forward, and the strange sensation increased whenever he slowed, until he was almost running, eyes blurry and unfocused as he allowed himself to be pulled by the mental tether that held him. The air he breathed in smelled _so sweet_ , like a thick perfume, calming his mind and making some of the exhaustion haze retreat. And _then_ he realized what it was that was pulling him--Blue! The wordless pulling in his mind became a rumbling, and then a roar, faintly echoed in his ears.

Lance stumbled and fell into a door, his shoulder flaring in agony, and his free hand fumbling for the doorknob. He was almost out...!

Then there was a sound, seeming very distant to Lance’s ringing ears, a shot. And a surge of intense pain in the center of his back. Lance fell forwards out of the door, into the outside, and abruptly his comms lit up with his teammate’s voices, shouting out orders and curses. Lance cried out, his vision wavering as he fell forward. It seemed like some sort of blue sun was rising...but that was impossible. His eyes rolled up into his head, his breath stuttering out of his lips as Blue slammed onto the ground above him, her particle barrier flickering to life around her, and the unconscious form of her paladin.

\----------

“Blue?!” The words were ripped out of Keith’s mouth as he whirled Red mid-battle. About halfway through their dual missions, shit had hit the fan, but Red had moved under his hands and his mind like a living creature, her metal hide burning with the same adrenaline that shot through him. They had leapt to answer Hunk’s distress call, and kept reinforcements from re-entering the compound where Lance and Hunk were still cornered. But the spike of ice-cold fear that rushed through Keith at the sight of Blue hurtling towards the facility, her mental voice _screeching_ in a way that reverberated through the bond, was enough to puncture his heart. But quickly enough his anger--familiar, comforting--thawed his blood.

Roaring in rage, Red turned with Keith’s thoughts, away from the fighters he’d been pursuing, and instead flying after Blue. While it wasn’t uncommon for Red to come after Keith--she was the most action-minded of the lions--it was almost unheard of for Blue to be so direct. It was only in the most dire of situations that a lion would act against her nature so. And while Hunk had rejoined the fray inside of the Yellow Lion, Lance had been unusually silent via comms. Fear and anger and guilt swirled in Keith’s gut as he raced after the Blue Lion. His teammate’s voices were loud and intermingled in his ears--he didn’t hear them.

There was no time for these feelings, though, so Keith ruthlessly shoved them to the side, biting his lip so hard that it bled. His hands were tight on the controls, too tight, and he leaned further into the burning anger, into the pain. Fear and guilt were useless. Anger he could use. Blue couldn’t outrun Red, not on her best day, so Keith was there when the door to the compound burst open, saw Lance stumble forward, blood-streaked and clutching some ominously glowing object. Saw the burst of plasma fire light up the doorway and darkened hall behind Lance. Saw the blue paladin fly through the air and land on the ground, his armor melted and charred on his back.

‘ _No, no no no no not him, not Lance_ ,’

“LANCE!” Pain shot through Keith’s mind, but it was a roar of fury that managed to escape his lips. Slamming the controls forward, Keith didn’t see Blue land over Lance’s crumpled body, or the barrier. He hardly saw at all. Red slammed into the side of the building, the metal and stone crumbling under her weight, and she roared with her paladin, her metal claws tearing the wall and doorway apart. Keith whirled Red, slamming her armor through two stories, and saw the shooter, a wounded Galra who was already running. He wouldn’t make it out alive. Snarling, Keith let off a volley of shots, hissing as they landed. Then Red, crunching through the ruined section of building, whirled around, and Keith was out of his seat and rushing to where Red’s maw was already opening.

“Keith! What the _hell_ is going on down there?! Is Lance okay? Answer me!” Shiro’s voice was demanding and worried, and Hunk was shouting agreement, explosions and fire loud in the background.

“Fuck, fuck, Shiro, Lance is outside but he’s hit. He’s badly wounded. Took a direct hit to the back.” Keith hit the barrier with both fists up, slamming against it. “Damnit all, _Blue_ let me in! We need to get him to _safety_!” Keith slammed a fist against the barrier, and heard Blue’s growls rumbling through the air before Red’s own snarl sliced through the noise. Then the Blue Lion’s protective crouch over Lance straightened, almost as if surprised, and suddenly Keith was stumbling forward, towards Lance.

And Keith’s eyes were glued to Lance’s fallen form the instant he was through the barrier. There was blood--smeared down his left arm, from a jagged partially-melted hole in the armor, and speckling his entire side. Then, of course, there was the fresh shot glistening on his back, the blood oozing out in thick droplets. Keith’s skin grew cold at the sight of so much blood--he had to hurry.

“Shiro, he’s got something with him. Its probably the weapon. I’ve got him and it, I’m heading back to the castle. Blue needs to be guarded, though--I don’t think she’s budging.” His voice was blank in his own ears, quite different from his own racing mind. Keith gingerly lifted Lance, cursing as a weak sound of pain worked its way out of the blue paladin’s mouth.

Keith’s mouth was a grim line as he held Lance’s body in his arms--the blue paladin’s arms still wrapped loosely around that damn weapon--and ran back into Red’s cockpit. Lance was cradled awkwardly on his lap as Keith punched the controls around the unconscious and bleeding body, unwilling to set Lance down for even a moment. Red shot off of the planet, spiraling towards the castle-ship, but Keith couldn’t even look at his display--his eyes were on Lance’s face, his mind a blur of pain and static.

Lance’s face, which was so pale, with a streak of blood out of the mouth. His face, which was slack, alongside his body, wounded and limp in Keith’s arms. Keith flicked off his comms with a trembling hand and allowed himself to crack. Keith had been on edge, feeling like he was struggling to put out a burning fire as it spread across a dry, brittle forest, trying to cover the smoke and hide the glow from watching eyes. A fire that had started burning possibly the moment that he found himself shoved into close quarters with Lance for the first time. But like fire, it burned voraciously, despite his attempts to put it out.

“Stupid...why didn’t you just _retreat_? Hunk pulled back as soon as he could after losing communication. But you--” his voice cracked, and Keith squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, before they were open and searching out Lance’s face again. “Always had to be a hero, huh, Lance?” And of course, Lance always _had_ been playing up the hero act. It was what infuriated Keith the most about him--that big talk about parades, and hero-worship and his tendency to crack jokes even during the worst situation made it seem like Lance just _didn’t care_. But he did care.

And god, how stupid _was_ Keith, to still allow himself these feelings, when Lance had made it obvious time and time again that he tolerated Keith for the good of Team Voltron...and that was about it. Keith knew when feelings were hopeless, had a talent for crushing them under his heel before they could grow past a tiny, unspoken hope. But...not this one. Keith choked back a sob, brushing trembling fingertips over Lance’s hair as Red shuddered, her comforting presence washing over Keith as she steered herself, plowing through drifting dead ships rather than lose speed by arcing around. Not this one. Keith’s arms tightened around Lance as Red hurtled towards the castle ship, cursing himself, damning the Galra, and wishing fervently that he didn’t care as deeply about the boy in his arms as he did.

And ever since that night--Keith had fucked up his careful facade, and had been scrambling to correct ever since. Keith couldn’t stomp down the thought that perhaps this new trend of recklessness on Lance’s part was, somehow, Keith’s fault.

Reaching the ship was a blur--the weapon lay forgotten as Keith jumped out of Red’s open mouth, still clutching Lance, running towards the med bay. “Coran! Allura! I’m in the castle, we need to get Lance in a healing pod, _now_! He’s lost a lot of blood, he’s taken two shots--” Keith skidded around the corner into the med bay, saw Coran standing by an open pod, and with a flurry of activity the cover of the healing pod slid over Lance. Keith hated how people looked inside of the healing pods--suspended in space, with the cool aqua paling their skin--motionless and expressionless.

Keith’s mind shut down as he mechanically went back to Red, and rejoined the others in beating back the Galra, until the castle-ship was able to jump away to safety. Long after the Red Lion landed back in her hangar, Keith remained in the cockpit, staring down at gloves that still were tacky with Lance’s blood, at the speckles of it on the floor of his cockpit. And that thought kept returning.

It was his fault.

Keith ran to his room, after, curled up on his bed, and shut his eyes. He couldn’t sleep, of course. But he could remember. It was almost the same as a dream.

\--------

That night had been one of the worst nights for Keith. Sleep never came easily to him; sleep was something to be stolen in the odd hours of the night, curled up as tight as he could, with his hand wrapped around the knife under his pillow, ready to surge awake at the slightest sound. Sleep was something he counted on coming for other people, so that he could slip away to try and find somewhere _safe_ to rest. Sleep was something to succumb to once he had worked his mind and body to utter exhaustion, so that when he finally did close his eyes, it was to complete and utter blackness, with no errant thought to plump up into a dream--or more likely, a nightmare.

But sometimes his mind would still trot out those memories twisted into nightmares, those fears blown large into wordless monsters and atrocities that chased him first from home to home, and then to the Garrison, and now, all the way out to space. And that night had been one of them.

Keith had curled up in the kitchen like an animal seeking to lick its wounds, blearily thinking about going to the training deck and fighting until he collapsed where he stood; Shiro would wake him up before anyone else found him, like he always did, and Keith would at least get some sleep in before they started the day. The castle-ship was familiar to him when it was dark; there was something comforting about the way it seemed in the dark. The way that the world seemed to unmake itself slightly in the dimness and the absence of light.

Then Lance had stumbled in, wearing his pajamas only halfway buttoned up, and wearing those stupid--adorable--lion slippers, looking terrible--Keith had noticed earlier, after the rescue mission that Lance had been looking rough around the edges, but had pointedly forced himself to stop looking and thinking about it. Keith had made some comment about the hour--honestly surprised that Lance would be up at this hour.

And then Lance had walked past him, and the night had ground somewhat to a stop. Keith was usually unfortunately aware of everyone around him--usually he could feel the press of people’s presence on him, habitually keeping track of their positions by sound, or just a periphery awareness of where they were. But as Lance walked past, it was like Keith’s senses zeroed in on Lance. Suddenly the air was thick and soupy around Keith, and his heartbeat picked up to a panicked pace. Keith became aware that something strong and sweet was in the air, a scent that twined through his nose; a secondary breath and Keith realized that the smell was coming from _Lance_. Some...some sort of perfume or something. Keith’s mind was assaulted suddenly with the mental image of the scent rising from his warm skin, invisible but enticing. He had the urge--uncharacteristically _strong_ to approach, to press his nose against Lance’s skin to try and taste the scent rising from him straight from the source--and then Lance was looking at him strangely and Keith realized _fuck he had been staring_.

“N-no. Your perfume or shampoo or whatever--” he hastily supplied, “Its just really strong.” Keith cleared his throat and looked at the bowl of goo on the table before him. He had been eating before? His brain skittered distractedly around as he forced his eyes to lock with the goo. But that _smell_ was still in his nose, and it seemed to just be radiating out from Lance, like heat from a fire. A quick glance up; Lance was chuckling about space beauty products, and dumping one of the various spices on his food. Keith’s eyes widened slightly as he watched the spoon’s progress up to Lance’s mouth, and had to remind himself to breathe as he watched it slide back out of Lance’s mouth. Keith abruptly pushed his bowl to the side, no longer hungry. Lance looked up, surprised.

‘ _Fuck, Keith, stupid, no say something_ \--’ What had the last thing Lance had said been? Right, the perfume. He hoped it didn’t smell bad. _God_ , anything but bad. It was--the most enticing scent Keith had ever breathed in. But...no he couldn’t just _say_ that, Lance hated him. “Mm, yeah it’s not really bad,” Understatement. Although there was something about right now that made Keith think that perhaps things were more...relaxed than they were with their teammates. Certainly Lance didn’t look like he was going to start a fight. Keith’s eyes were skittering around the room, wanting desperately to look at Lance, but he was forcing them to do no such thing. So instead he said the first thing that came to his mind, aware that a silence was stretching out. “Hey...is everything okay? You don’t usually lose control of Blue like that.”

Keith couldn’t keep the note of concern out of his voice--he _was_ concerned. As much as Lance liked to talk a big game and show off, he _was_ a good pilot, and it had been bothering Keith ever since it happened that Lance had lost control of the lion--something he’d never done before. Lance’s response was rough, and too fast. Keith’s eyes met Lance’s before he could stop them, and then suddenly it was like he was drowning in them. Lance’s eyes were _beautiful_ and Keith knew their color intimately. It was a color he had filed away in his memory, to remember forever. A bright ocean-blue, with the same sort of rippling dark blue depths to them that the water had. The dim lighting made them stormy sea eyes, with choppy waves that threatened to overtake Keith. Staring into Lance’s eyes was so _intimate_ in this half-dark, and Keith’s breathe came a little heavier. The air between them was electric, it was tingling with all of Keith’s feelings rushing to the surface.

Keith could see thoughts behind Lance’s eyes, a confused expression slowly fading away into a dumbfounded one. Keith was leaning forward somewhat--to do what he had no idea--when Lance let out a shaky breath. The sugary, syrupy, strangely floral scent that was all around Lance was pushed towards Keith, and his breath caught when it hit him--like a physical sensation. The very thought of that scent that his mind was interpreting as ‘ _Lance_ ’ settling over his own skin seemed to make it _burn_. Then, abruptly, Keith realized that he was staring. Staring at Lance, aware that his eyes had slid halfway closed, a sultry gaze. Aware that _holy fuck_ he was turned on as shit, fantasizing about Lance with Lance _right in front of him_. A blush, painful in its speed, lit up his face, and Keith jerked away from the table, practically stumbling away, horror flaring in his chest as he realized what he’d done, what he’d thought, what Lance _surely_ had seen.

Keith rushed out of the room, just running down hallways until it was dark and silent and he was far from the kitchen, from Lance. Horror and distress burned in his chest, along with that sudden desire that had curled up from his stomach and rooted itself somewhere in his groin. God he had just _stared_ at Lance. Keith’s hands covered his burning face, and then almost unwillingly slide down his body, tracing the lines of his chest through the thin fabric. He hissed as his palm cupped the bulge in his jeans, too hard to have been unnoticeable. Keith couldn’t suppress the burning throb that went through him at the thought of Lance seeing his erection, even as guilt and shame trickled through the arousal at that same thought.

‘ _He can’t know, I shouldn’t feel this!_ ’ The thought chased itself through Keith’s mind, and stabbed into his heart. ‘ _Fuck, how can he not know now? I might as well have dropped to a knee. Fuck. I--this can’t be happening!’_ ’

But that _scent_ was still in Keith’s nose, in his mouth, entwined with his tongue, and his mind tortured him again with the image of it just rising from Lance’s skin like steam. A choked noise worked its way out of Keith’s throat as he imagined kissing Lance’s skin, flicking a tongue out and _tasting_ that perfume. Frantically, he yanked his jeans open, hand diving down to where his dick was pressed firmly against the fabric, aching for friction. Keith’s head flew back, thudding against the wall as he took himself in hand, and stroked slowly, pressing his free hand to his mouth to muffle the sudden hitch in breath.

And still his mind swirled with images of Lance, his skin tingled, over-sensitive and yet aching to be touched. He let his fingers tease the tip of his dick, sliding through the precum that was already seeping out of his slit, and smearing it down his length, shivering at the touch. The sudden thought of _Lance_ doing this to Keith, _Lance’s_ hand sliding down him, ghosting up his underside, and then plunging back down made his cock jump, and a groan push past the hand clapped over his mouth. Keith whined needily, the sound distorted, and imagined Lance’s lips spreading around his cock like they had that spoon, imagined how hot they’d feel on him. God would Lance moan, would he pull back and look up at Keith with those dark ocean eyes burning with desire?

“Fuck-- _Lance!_ ” Keith convulsed, hips arching upward as his cock throbbed and his cum splattered out onto the floor of the hallway and dripped down his hand. Keith slumped, Lance’s name on his tongue and that _damn_ flowery scent still addling his brain, feeling electrical sparks of pleasure still shooting through his nerves, with a fog starting to roll in on his mind.

Absentmindedly, Keith brought his cum-covered hand up to his mouth and licked the mess off, feeling a hollow shiver of pleasure at the taste, and then went to find something to clean up the mess he’d made.

If only he could wipe up the mess that was sure to come of the realization that had dawned on Lance’s face. Or wipe away the feelings from his heart.

\-------

Morning came, with Keith still staring blankly at the wall, aware that the ship lights had slowly been creeping brighter and brighter, but unwilling to move. He felt cold and empty. After that night Keith had been sure that Lance would have approached him, spit hateful words at him, or _something_. So he had done his best to distance himself. Certainly the morning after had been telling. Lance had been joking with Hunk, and had turned as he heard Keith’s steps. A smile had curved his lips, his blue eyes had been a bright clear ocean, and Keith had felt that twinge he did whenever he saw Lance smile. But then the smile had fallen from Lance’s face like a stone, his eyes had darkened, and Keith had stopped in his tracks. Oh, Lance had to know.

Displeased with his thoughts, Keith pushed himself up from his bed, feeling restless. He still felt hollow, empty, like a yawning void was slowly tearing away all of the fire that he so carefully kept burning. He felt like the ground had been pulled from under him, and he was suddenly spinning out in space. He had felt like this before, of course. He had avoided Lance while they went on mission after mission, secretly grateful to the Cause for giving them so many good tips. The rest of the team--even Shiro, strangely enough--seemed too tired or preoccupied to have noticed Keith’s off-color responses to Lance. To notice that the good-natured bickering had stopped. Or to notice that Keith slipped out of common rooms when the whole group was together more and more.

Still dressed in his clothes from the night before, Keith started towards the training room, halfheartedly hoping that no one was there, listening to his footsteps echoing. It had hurt to distance himself, too. Keith hadn’t realized how much he had enjoyed being with the paladins, being a part of a team. Maybe he didn’t trust them with his past, or his pain, but he certainly trusted them with his life. And out here in space, Keith had felt like perhaps he could let go of some of the past. He’d never really fit in on Earth, but this was _space_! It wasn’t such an unreasonable thought. Such a silly hope.

‘ _Not like hoping you might actually_ \--’

“Keith.” Shiro’s voice froze Keith in his tracks the moment after he stepped into the training room. He turned almost guiltily--the training room had been _dark_. And yet, there was Shiro, leaning against the training room wall with his arms crossed, not even blinking as the lights flickered on. Keith stared into those familiar eyes, feeling uncomfortable as Shiro searched his eyes, concern visible in his gray eyes. The same concern that Shiro had shot Keith after he’d been in a fight, or when he admitted to some bit of his past.

“Keith,” Shiro started again, uncrossing his arms and stepping towards him, arms opening in a peaceful gesture. “You want to talk about what’s bothering you?” Keith tried to look nonchalant, even as the urge to spill the beans surged up in his stomach. This was _Shiro_ after all. He had confided in him more than anyone else. The Galra might have put a bump in that road, but Shiro was the closest thing he had to family. “Coran said you ran away after he put Lance in the healing pod...”

“I had to help you guys. We had to get away from there before the Galra cornered us.” The words were stiff, but felt like only a formality--like he was denying it for posterity’s sake and nothing else.

“You missed the debriefing after we got back in. You weren’t in your room, or here.” Shiro’s words were soft, and all at once Keith felt something dangerously close to tears stinging his eyes. Shiro’s careful, accepting gaze. How Shiro stepped close, and gently set his hand on Keith’s shoulder. Keith breathed in funny, and raised his hands in front of his face, staring at them. He could still feel the tacky, sticky, cold blood on his hands, even though the red was long gone.

“There was blood. In Red’s cockpit. On my hands. I had to--clean it.”

“Lance’s blood.” It wasn’t a question, and there was something about Shiro’s tone of voice, the way he said it that said more. The slight stress on Lance’s name that implied _that_ was the reason Keith was upset, and not the fact that blood was strewn across his precious lion and staining his hands.

Keith’s eyes flicked to Shiro’s, seeing that searching expression again. The silence was heavy. A fat tear somehow escaped Keith’s eye, and then a second, and he looked down sharply, sucking in a breath at the sudden--unwanted--tears. His hands lowered and balled into fists. Finally he spoke, his voice hoarse. “Yeah.” Keith squeezed his eyes shut, and was surprised--really, he shouldn’t have been--when Shiro swept him into a tight hug.

“Hey,” Shiro comforted, holding Keith who was now trembling. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. Lance is in the healing pod, he’ll be better soon.”

“Shiro, you don’t understand. He--he hates me. He can hardly bear to talk to me...anymore. A-and I just. Ran away. I couldn’t handle that _look_ on his face.” Keith felt Shiro stiffen around him in surprise, and choked back a sob. No, he wasn’t crying. He refused. Suddenly that anger within him sprung to life again, and Keith grabbed it gratefully, pulling out of Shiro’s hug, shaking his head.

“Keith--” Shiro’s voice had a thick layer of pity in it. Keith couldn’t stand it. He sliced a hand through the air.

“No. Don’t. It was just a stupid crush. I’ve had them before, I’ll get over it. Lance has--he’s been nice enough to not-- _ridicule_ me or anything. And we’ve all been so busy that it’s had time to settle.” Keith didn’t mention how Lance’s happy expressions always faded when he appeared, or how much it _hurt_ to say that. But, of course, Keith was right. He would get over it. He always did. The anger simmered and burned him, but the pain was a pain _he_ chose.

Shiro looked somewhat uncomfortable, and rubbed the back of his neck. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, and then sighed. “Well...Lance has his own things going on right now. Its not my place to say, but suffice to say that things have been unsettled for him lately.” His human hand unthinkingly reached out to play at the seam of where his Galran prosthetic connected to his skin, tracing the line in a nervous gesture that Keith didn’t fully understand. Not that it mattered. Keith merely shrugged, quashing down the bit of hope that tried to spring up.

“Either way, we’ve got bigger things to worry about. Did Allura and Coran figure out what that--damn thing was?” Keith changed the topic, feeling the exhaustion from lack of sleep starting to pound at his temples. Keith found himself playing with his gloves, making sure they were tight enough, tugging them down into place. His thoughts of that black diamond were fuzzy, still filled with the panic he had felt when he carried Lance back.

“Yeah, sort of. They aren’t sure, of course, but Coran says it resembles an old Altean weapon. It ran off of quintessence, and although it has only the slightest resemblance to the files Coran pulled up to show us, the insides do look startlingly similar.” Keith opened his mouth to ask how Shiro knew that, and Shiro raised a finger and continued, “Once the Princess drained the quintessence from it Pidge dissected it.”

“That sounds...dangerous.”

“I’m told it could have been. But you know Allura. She got that look in her eyes, and she reached out and touched the thing, and all of the purple lights on it flared blue and then went out. Coran almost fainted, I think, but she looked quite pleased with herself.” Shiro closed his eyes and sighed through his nose. Keith couldn’t agree more.

“Mmm.” Keith looked at the training room. “Well, I was going to train, so if you needed anything else...” he trailed off, glancing up at Shiro. There was that hint of disappointment in Shiro’s eyes, and Keith felt a flare of resentment at it. Shiro could _be_ disappointed. It was train or drive himself crazy worrying about things that he couldn’t help.

Shiro seemed to read that in his suddenly stiff stance, and waved a hand. “Don’t tire yourself out too much, Keith. Allura wants to be back in Cause space as soon as Lance is recovered, to discuss this weapon.” Keith’s heart throbbed at the reminder of Lance’s delicate state, and he turned resolutely away from Shiro, nodding shortly.

“Computer, start training program C-H2. Level three.” His voice was grim.

Keith flexed his shoulders as three robot droids dropped onto the floor. He wasn’t wearing his paladin armor, but that hardly mattered. He took a fighting stance and shook his hands, carefully blanking his mind. The droids took a similar pose, and their metal fingers curled into fists. Keith’s breath rushed out as he darted forward, slamming a punch into one of their metal breastplates. The pain of the impact jolted up his arm, and he gritted his teeth and slammed another punch.

 _This_! This is what he wanted. This rush, the breath rushing through his mouth. His teeth were bared in something more predatory than a smile, his blood singing. Pain flared in his body as the droids landed punches, and he felt the breath knocked out of him as a painfully solid leg landed a kick in his gut. Growling like a feral cat, Keith landed on his ass and scrambled to his feet, kicking himself forward to land a reckless punch, twirling with a powerful kick. Punch, punch, dodge, block, kick. The rhythm was like water flowing around him. Each burst of pain on his body grounded him, sent adrenaline boiling up to his skin. He kicked one away from him, watching it cartwheel its arms, and spun to block a blow. He punched--but too slow to block as a metal fist slammed into his jaw. He tasted blood, and roared, leaping onto the one that had hit him and slamming fists into it. Metal hands drug him backwards as he landed a flailing kick onto the downed one, watching sparks shoot up.

One down. Keith licked his bleeding lip and surged at the remaining two.

\-------

Freshly showered, Keith was feeling quiescent. He padded to his room, feeling his damp hair tickle the back of his neck. The slow ache of torn muscles and faint throb of bruises made him feel more like himself than he had for a while. His mouth hurt--it was split, although he had dabbed some sort of wound-sealant on it. There was a thin, slightly reddened line on the corner of his mouth from where the droid’s metal knuckle had cut him, and he had taken quite a battering. Yellow speckled his jaw already, and he had seen several bruises and scrapes during his shower.

He knew Shiro would see, and probably would end up corralling him into a healing pod. But for now Keith wore his bruises like someone wore a lifeline. It was unhealthy, he knew, and did nothing to help anyone. Shiro had lectured him time and time again, both as a paladin and as a cadet at the Garrison. But at times like these--particularly when he was floundering with _emotional pain_ , there was nothing quite as refreshing as physical pain. Keith was familiar with pain. He knew he was tough. He knew he could take it, could heal from it. And there was some perverse part of him that liked how it felt, liked the connotation that went with the scars that he would heal after this. Liked the way he grew back, twisted, red, liked how it faded to silver.

Keith absently rustled through the drawer on his desk. It was bare save for a single data pad, and the drawer had only a few boxes and tins, marked with various alien scripts, and two battered tins that had the familiar printed font of English. His rough fingertips traced those, feeling a pang, but instead he pried open a white sphere, releasing a thick minty scent in the air. He delicately pulled out a small cloth pyramid, feeling the leaves inside crush slightly despite the gentleness of his touch, and closed the sphere. This would do nicely.

Five minutes later, and he was in the kitchen clutching one of those round-bottomed Altean mugs, breathing in the thick mint steam that rose from his drink. His eyes didn’t open as someone else entered the kitchen, but he recognized Hunk from the deliberate step--no one but Hunk walked with such precision, not even Shiro. He opened an eye and, yes, it was Hunk.

“Smells good,” Hunk offered, pulling out a dish from the fridge and frowning down at it. Keith glanced at it to see a mixture of various brightly colored alien vegetables. He couldn’t remember the meal that came with, so presumably he had missed it. Keith nodded to Hunk, and took a swig of his alien tea. It was sweet, and heavy, and most importantly it was hot. It relaxed him further, enough that he didn’t bother to try and turn away as Hunk gave Keith a glance, his eyes lingering on the cuts and bruises.

“He’s stable,” Hunk says finally. Keith doesn’t need to ask who. “Coran and I just got done checking his vitals. He’s....well he lost a lot of blood, but thanks to you he’s okay.” Hunk’s voice grew strained. “He was showing symptoms of _hypovolemic shock_ , Coran said. When he first put him in. He wasn’t sure if Lance was even going to make it...”

Keith’s eyes widened, and there was a sudden wrenching pain inside him at the thought of Lance dying, just like that. “He-he lost a lot of blood, I think. His arm had a wound that was pretty bad.” The part of him that still refused to give up on the dark-skinned boy roared angrily at the thought of the universe trying to wrench Lance away, couldn’t bear to think of what it would be like here and now without Lance making a recovery. There would be a hole in the paladins that might not ever heal. Abruptly, Keith realized that Hunk’s face was screwing up.

“Th-thank god we got those _stupid_ flowers. I know they started most of this mess and Lance might not have been hurt if he wasn’t still sick but--” Hunk took a weepy breath and seemed to center himself. “Coran said the fresh Akarway Blossom essence is what’s helped him heal so quickly.”

“Thats go--wait, Lance is still sick?” Keith’s brain whirled with the knowledge. He’d known Lance had been running off from training sessions, but so had Keith, and he had sort of...assumed that Lance did so because he couldn’t bear to be in the same room with Keith, particularly when it looked like they were teaming up. In fact, almost every time they had sparred together, Lance had abruptly torn off, shooting Shiro a look that Keith had _apparently_ interpreted wrong. Could that be what Shiro was hinting at?

“Yeah. I’m surprised you didn’t notice. He’s been coughing a lot. Coran admits that he’s a bit flummoxed that Lance is still clearing his throat all the time, but we just don’t know how alien illnesses affect humans.” Hunk blinked sadly. “That has to be why he got hurt on the mission. He’s been trying so hard to hide it from the rest of us that he lets himself get tired out. I’ve been sneaking him extra food and going easy on him during training, but I know its not enough.”

Keith blinked, trying to process this information, and took a sip of his tea instead. He made a face as the tea--once sweet and now horribly over-steeped and bitter--touched his tongue, and made a disgusted noise. He dumped the tea into the sink and fished out the tea bag, tossing it into the waste chute. “I’ve been a bit...preoccupied lately. The missions have been getting to me. Not sleeping that great. I guess they’ve been hitting everyone hard.”

Hunk nodded slowly, giving Keith a slow look. “That they have, buddy. I can’t wait until Allura calls a break for us. I’m dying to take a nap without having to worry about the alarm. Anyways--I wanted to say thanks. Thanks for getting Lance back here so quick. I don’t know what I’d do without him,”

“Me either,” Keith admitted for a moment, before his cheeks turned pink at the realization of what he’d say. Straightening, he added, “Lance is an important member of the team. We wouldn’t be able to form Voltron without him.”

The corner of Hunk’s mouth had quirked up, and he seemed about to say something when Pidge skidded to a stop in the doorway. Her glasses were askew, and her hair was wild as she sucked in a breath, her amber eyes wide. “Guys, Lance is waking up, c’mon,” She panted out without preamble, and then took off back the way she’d come.

Keith was only a step behind Hunk, both of them sprinting after Pidge. Keith wanted to run as fast as he could, to shoot past Hunk and Pidge, but felt like he should restrain himself. After all, Lance hated him. But he _had_ to see Lance with himself, without that awful aqua lighting making him look like he was already dead.

The three of them pelted into the med bay to join Coran, Shiro, and Allura, who looked up sharply at their sudden arrival. Pidge flapped a hand at them and crowded close with everyone as Coran punched in the code to open the healing pod. It slid open, and the little drifts of mist curled out of it. Keith’s eyes widened as, instead of the typical cold scent of the healing pod, a thick, familiar, floral perfume drifted out, almost palpable enough for him to _feel_. His eyes flickered around in a panic. Couldn’t everyone else smell it?

“Something’s wrong,” he said, pushing forward as Lance moved forward. All of his internal alarms were going off. Lance wasn’t moving enough, he was too pale still, his breath was too shallow--

But no one seemed to realize that something was wrong. By the time that Shiro turned, confused to Keith, and Allura seemed to also realize something was wrong, Keith had already stepped forward, his arms darting out to catch Lance as the teen slumped forward. His face twitched, something like pain flickering across it, and then Lance’s blue eyes snapped open, his back arching. Keith felt Lance’s muscles straining under the skin, saw Lance’s throat work. Perfume was rolling off of Lance so thickly that Keith could hardly smell anything else. But this time it filled Keith with a panicky, helpless feeling.

Lance’s mouth opened, and he choked, sputtering. There was a thick wet splatter, and everyone took a step back, Allura letting out a small distressed noise, Coran making a strained sound, and Hunk giving a little shriek of dismay. Keith’s hands tightened around Lance, scrabbling helplessly, as something large and _distressingly red_ slapped wetly onto the floor, several thick droplets of blood splattering the white tile underneath and around it. A line of blood trailed from Lance’s mouth as the cuban boy’s hands both wrapped around his throat, tears welling in his eyes.

Lying on the floor, spattered with blood, was a hydrangea, of a beautiful sunset hue. Flower petals dripped from Lance’s mouth alongside thick droplets of crimson blood, mingling with the tears and pink-tinged saliva that oozed out of Lance’s choking mouth.

The world screeched to a halt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a bit from Keith's POV. I debated a bit about who to switch to, before deciding that it was late enough now to drop that little Keith gem in there.
> 
> FINALLY some smut, am I right? What do you mean porn between angst is a bad idea? I think its a great idea.
> 
> Things are starting to come to a head for old Lancey-lance. Next chapter back to Lance's POV unless he passes out again. There is finally some decent medical examinations. People realize exactly how badly they fucked up. Coran knows Lance is dying. Lance finds out _exactly_ how back this flower thing is going to hurt.


	5. A Burden Shared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the paladins know about Lance's illness now. And--to no one but Lance's surprise--they want to help. But when an attempt to kill the plant inside of Lance hurts Lance too, it's starting to look like they have no other option than to turn to the Ixari for help.
> 
> Keith has a hard time seeing Lance like this. And a harder time denying his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanna say thanks for all the support and comments. I read every one and it makes me really happy to know that although this is really self indulgent that other folks can enjoy my writing.
> 
> It may not be the best but it's mine, and it's lovely to share this ride with you guys

When Lance came to, he was wrapped up in a familiar set of strong arms, pressed against Hunk’s soft chest. His breath rattled and stung in his throat, and he groaned, unable to remember how he had gotten here. Had something happened? He murmured his confusion, the sound strangely hoarse, and felt Hunk’s arms tighten around him. As the breath worked out of him, Lance felt a stabbing pain, and suddenly memory returned. His eyes flung wide open, and as he gasped, the pain flared again. He remembered getting lost in the Galra compound, the arm wound, the sudden agony of the direct shot to his back. One hand jerked up and twisted, trying to touch his back where the wound had been, but a sharp, stabbing pain--a pain that was _oh so wrong_ and somehow originating from _inside_ of him--stopped that attempt. Nausea and fear bounced around his stomach at that discomforting realization.

“L-Lance, you’re awake. Buddy no, don’t move!” Hunk’s voice was distressed, and thick with tears. Lance twisted in his best friend’s arms, to see Hunk’s face reddened with crying, his eyes puffy and a deep lines of worry scored into his face. “You’re gonna upset the whole setup. God you--” Hunk buried his face into Lance’s back, and Lance’s mind slowly tried to catch up to what happened. He realized, belatedly, that there was an IV hooked into his arm, with several sensors also attached. Lance blinked slowly at it, and lowered the arm, feeling like he missed something important.

Then it hit him. The flower. The pain inside of him. He hadn’t hurt yesterday, but somehow...things had gotten worse. Practically overnight. Lance groaned again, burying his face in one hand. He was somewhat thankful for the fact that he seemed to be lying down, and doubly grateful for Hunk’s familiar warmth holding him. How many times had Hunk cuddled Lance just like this at the Garrison, after he’d done poorly on a test, or freaked out about losing his position as a fighter pilot, or after a particularly bad hangover after a night of underage drinking? Hunk’s arms had always been comforting, had always cradled him close when his emotions had gotten too much for him to handle. He was feeling dangerously close to that now.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Hunk’s voice was soft, but pained, and Lance didn’t have to look at his friend to know what his expression looked like. He knew those brown eyes would be distressed, but that there would be no judgment. “We could have--tried to do something, could have helped you.” Lance felt his throat constrict. If Hunk knew, then likely everyone knew. And just as Lance had feared, the fact that his friend knew, and was here, holding him, trying to comfort him even though he had lied to them meant that they knew a lot more than just the fact he was spitting up flowers. A sob worked its way through him. It all felt...so real now. There was still the slightest bit of haziness to it, a part of him still felt like he could deny it. But...he had been clinging to the knowledge, no the certainty, of his death for the past few weeks, just to get him through the days.

“I...” the words were raspy, and he had to clear his throat to continue, a sharp tang of copper on his breath as he spoke again. “For a while I just...didn’t want to believe it. Coran kept--he kept saying it would just die. But it didn’t. It was just there, and by the time I realized it was getting so bad, getting worse, I realized that...it wasn’t able to be stopped. It’s gonna kill me Hunk.” Hunk’s arms tightened around Lance painfully, and tears welled up in Lance’s eyes. He pressed the heel of his palms against his eyes, and felt shuddering, whole-body sobs begin to wrack him. “Hunk, I’m--I’m dying. I-I can feel it. In my throat now. Spreading up, and down, I guess.”

And he could. Now that he said it, he was aware of the lumps in his throat, the strange sensation of many blossoms on slightly rigid stems inside of him where no living plant should be. He realized that his lungs hurt, the nerves within not prepared to send the sensations they were feeling to his brain, his body literally _physically_ unable to process the sensation. And the pain. He swallowed thickly, aware of the twinges of pain all down his torn throat, and shivered again, feeling the deep ache inside of him where a pain shouldn’t be.

“No, I refuse to believe that. You aren’t--you aren’t going to _die_ Lance!! Do you really think we would just _let_ you die?!” Hunk’s voice was angry, and it took Lance somewhat aback. “No, we are going to do everything we _can_ to get this thing _out_ of you! And you!” Hunk’s hands released him from the embrace, and the bed Lance was on shifted as Hunk sat up, grabbing either side of Lance’s face and forcing the blue paladin to look at him. His brown eyes were burning earnestly. “Don’t you give up, on me, damn it! You’re gonna eat and rest and get _better_ so that when we come up with a solution you’ll be in the best health you can be in!” Tears had begun streaming down Hunk’s face, and the yellow paladin sobbed in tandem with his best friend. “I just wish you would have told me sooner, so I could have helped. I knew you were sick, yeah? But...I didn’t know you were this sick.”

Lance nodded miserably, and then struggled to sit up, patting the bed next to him. Hunk settled in beside him and hugged him again. They spent a long time just crying together. To Lance it was an unexpected release to the pressure that had been building inside of him ever since that first panic-filled episode. He hadn’t realized just _how heavy_ the burden he’d so foolishly kept to himself was, didn’t realize how tight his body had been, wound up with stress. But sitting with Hunk’s arms around him, Lance felt like a bit of that burden had been lifted.

And really, how stupid he’d been after all. He had his _team_. The thought that they would have just _let_ him die seemed silly, here, with Hunk’s friendship and support. Lance allowed himself a shaky sigh once the two of them had stopped crying. He turned to Hunk, and finally asked how the other paladins had found out, since he had apparently been unconscious for the whole thing. Hunk turned to him and began. Lance’s eyes widened as Hunk explained, and they grew even wider when Hunk stood and brought over the flower, which looked pretty wilted, and was still stained with dried brown blood. Lance swallowed while looking at it, unbelieving that something that large and--poky looking--could have come out of his body.

Hunk excused himself after that, seeming to realize that Lance wanted some time to think, promising to bring some food and round up the rest of the team to have a meeting. “Allura wanted to meet up as soon as you were awake, to discuss the plan going forward. I know Coran, her, and Pidge have been driving themselves up a wall trying to learn everything about this stupid--heart-lily.” Lance had nodded tiredly, and curled up, feigning a desire to nap.

But instead his mind lingered on the later half of the story. Hunk had lost some of the pained, grieving look in his eyes when he reached the end of the story, and there had been perhaps a bit of _smugness_ present when Hunk told Lance about how Keith had been the first one to realize that something was wrong. Keith had just announced something was wrong, and swooped forward to catch Lance as he fell out of the healing pod, still unconscious. Hunk had, perhaps a bit too innocently informed Lance that Keith had held Lance after the flower incident, and had been the one to carry Lance to this bed. Had, while Coran panicked and Allura rushed off to do research and Pidge, Shiro, and Hunk flailed about, tucked Lance in and sat by his bedside, long after everyone hooked Lance up to the IV and left to rest. He had left only when Hunk relieved him of his self-imposed guard duty, looking roughly like he hadn’t slept in a week.

Lance wasn’t sure how to feel about that. His first reaction was to have his heart leap. Because that was so _Keith_ , to just sit like a guard dog, hovering over Lance while he was unconscious. And there was a part of him that was pleased that Keith had been the first one to recognize something was wrong. Perhaps those red paladin instincts had been at play? Or maybe something else? But then reality had slammed down on him. Keith had merely been acting like a good teammate. He wasn’t just going to let Lance _hit the ground_ after a display like that. And OK, maybe he couldn’t come up with a good reason why Keith would have sat at his bedside overnight, but he couldn’t rectify that knowledge with the way Keith’s face had twisted that night in the kitchen. With the growing distance between him and his...rival? Friend? Teammate?

Lance closed his eyes, mind wandering, and as he breathed out an unhappy sigh, and then breathed it back in, he smelled a fragrant, sweet smell. It was like a lovely perfume, and it relaxed him until he was _actually_ napping.

\----------

“So, we’ve managed to figure out why the heart-lily progressed so quickly,” Pidge informed the group that was arranged in a semi-circle around Lance’s bed in the med bay. Lance was holding a warm bowl of soup--actual real mostly non-alien soup. Her amber eyes flashed with something like anger, and she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Looking at records of Alteans who hosted the heart-lily themselves, and looking at how the plant _typically_ affected them, Lance here seems to have skipped several stages right off the bat. Biometric scans indicate that the human body is an inhospitable place for the spores of the lily to root, and that our immune system should kill it off before the spores can manage to do much more than irritate. But according to Lance, he was spitting up flowers just after that little cold.”

“Yes, it was one of the reasons why I was so unconcerned about the infection, at first,” Coran admitted, tugging his mustache in a clearly displeased gesture. “And why I was surprised when he even admitted to petals existing in the first place.” It was obvious that the older man was still troubled by this; Lance could see it in the lines on his face and the dark shadows from a day and night of studying with no rest.

Pidge practically growled, “It was from the healing pod! Turns out, the _essence_ isn’t just good for us. It sped up the spore’s growing process. And if you remember, Lance was put in the healing pod almost directly after we got back from Teswillion. So, the heart-lily was essentially jumped from the rooting stage to the flowering phase, in the course of a few vargas.”

“That was why he passed out right after he got out of the pod the second time!” Hunk exclaimed, and shot Lance a pitying look that Lance pretended not to see. “So it went from flowering to...what, exactly?”

Coran sounded a bit grave as he answered. “The heart-lily, after it gets a basic tap into the host’s system to properly drain nutrients from them, begins to integrate with the host’s nervous and circulatory systems. It had already started to do that before; that’s why the few scans I did at Lance’s behest showed nothing too out of the ordinary; his body was already accepting the integration. But now it’s completed that step. The lily has fully integrated with Lance’s lungs. Removing the flowers now might not be an option.”

Lance felt his stomach drop out of him at those words. It made _some_ sense. Ever since he had woken up, any amount of petal or blossom that he choked up also came with a sharp pain inside of him, and blood. He’d even coughed up a leaf that, when crushed, oozed out a dark red sap that Lance now knew was blood. His own blood. He shivered, and the team shot him a concerned glance, Coran pausing in his worried speech at the sound of his sensor-wires rattling.

“Not an _option_?!” Keith spoke for the first time since the meeting had started, a rather awkward ten doboshes ago--Keith had been silent, sitting in a chair just far enough out of Lance’s vision that he would have had to crane his neck to see the red paladin. But now Keith burst out, standing quickly enough to make his chair screech in protest. “So what, we’re just going to leave Lance like this? Let this--stupid fucking thing just _kill_ him?!” Lance turned to look at Keith with a curiously painful feeling in his chest. Keith’s anger...it lit his eyes, and twisted his face, and it struck Lance a little odd that he would be the beneficiary of that anger, given the recent circumstances. But....then again, perhaps finding out Lance was perhaps fatally ill had brought things closer to what they had been before.

“Keith,” Shiro warned, also standing and putting a firm hand on Keith’s shoulder. Keith turned his smoldering glare to Shiro. “That’s enough. Sit down. Coran isn’t suggesting we don’t do anything. Right Coran?” Shiro turned his patient, concerned gaze to the older Altean. Keith sat back down with a huff. Lance continued to stare at Keith long after Coran began talking again.

“Of course not. There are still things we can try--and should try. But...Princess Allura has suggested that we travel to planet Haixia. And I agree, although only as a last resort. The Ixari have had a symbiotic relationship with the heart-lily since the dawn of their race, and will have a much more in-depth understanding of the plant and it’s integration with the body than we ever could.”

Allura nodded shortly. “I think at this point that might be the best step to take. We just don’t know enough about humans and how they interact with the lily; from everything I’ve read, it was fairly easy for an Altean to rid themselves of the plant if they wished to, but obviously that is not so for humans. Between the healing pod and the Akarway essence, this has developed into later stages that could be considered dangerous to the hosts.” The princess made a small irritated noise, which was mirrored by Pidge. “Almost all of the texts imply that there was a large amount of premeditation that went into allowing a heart-lily to root in the first place, and because of that most of the...possible risks that Lance may now be in danger of experiencing were almost always eliminated. And the Ixari would, obviously, be experts on this situation. But...”

The air was expectant for a moment, and no one seemed willing to ask the question that needed to be. So Lance, looking down at his soup, prompted, “But?”

“ _But_...The Ixari are...difficult creatures. Thankfully our records of _them_ are quite complete, given that Altea and Ixari had a thriving diplomatic alliance for hundreds of years. However, their culture revolves _heavily_ around the heart-lily. Even if they had the technology or expertise available to completely remove the lily from your system, there is a very high risk that they simply...will not. They won’t allow it to kill you, Lance, but they most likely will refuse to remove it themselves.”

At Allura’s words, almost every eye settled onto Lance. He felt a hollow coldness inside of him, and shivered at the thought of always having this plant inside of him. Become a _part_ of him. It sickened him. The thought of a parasite inside of his body, unable to be removed...it made his skin crawl in a horrifying way, a way. And he wasn’t more aware of the fact that he had been _avoiding_ dealing with that very sickening train of thought during the whole time he had been hiding the illness, because he absolutely didn’t know how to handle the possibility. But at the same time...a part of him wanted to live, still. He was doing good, wasn’t he? He had a purpose right now. As a paladin of Voltron. And something about the way that his team had scurried, horrified, to try and save him, when he had just given up the moment he found out...it made him feel almost like he _was_ important to the team. And more. Important to the people.

“I...don’t know,” he rasps, finally, overwhelmed by the thoughts he was having and the gravity of the situation--making a decision between possible permanent medical conditions, or possible and equally permanent death. “I don’t...want to die. But I want this to go away...I want to hold off on the Ixari unless there’s no other option, if they’re going to force me to keep it.”

“Then we continue researching.” Shiro’s voice is firm. “We try everything we can, and hold off on visiting planet Haixia.”

Hanging unsaid were the words Shiro didn’t say: _'Until we have no other option'_

\----------

It had taken some convincing, at first, to allow the rest of the team to let Lance help. It took only the mildly acidic drop of the fact that time was quite literally running out before they agreed, but they had relented. It was important. And Lance couldn’t help but admit that he was curious--dangerously so--about the plant that was inside of him. It was like the moment he had a datapad in his hands, with pages and _pages_ of information about the thing, after so many weeks of being in the dark, confused and scared and concerned, that he discovered a ravenous appetite for knowledge on the thing.

He was hardly a voracious reader; his time at the garrison where he was required to read nothing but technical books, mechanical manuals, and dissertation upon dissertation about the workings of space had more or less torn the pleasure of reading from him. But with each page he read, he found out more about this plant within him, as well as far more about the Ixari than he probably would ever need to know. Pidge, Hunk, and Allura got mainly the more complicated files, of course, all medical and scientific. But Lance found himself reading more...cultural snippets.

“Huh, listen to this: ‘ _The Ixari believe that the heart-lily has more than a symbiotic relationship with the bearer,_ ’ which is the only word they use, instead of ‘host’, like this is some sort of blessing and not a parasite or anything. Anyways. ‘ _More than a symbiotic relationship with the bearer. It is hypothesized that the bonding of the lily and bearer goes deeper than physical--that it spans emotional and mental links as well. There is research from races with telepathic and magical talents showing that the lily responds drastically to such abilities, even latent, and in some instances has been suspected to induce such abilities within non-Ixari upon receiving a lily._ ’ Then it lists a bunch of other files as references and studies. Do you think I have cool mind powers, now?” Lance’s voice, still with a hint of hoarseness, but sounding far more normal than usual, had a playful lilt at the end.

Coran, who had been seemingly deeply engrossed in some file or another, glanced up. “Well, it is well known that the heart-lily mirrors the mental state of the host, which indicated an empathic link with the host. And species with mental or magical abilities, such as Alteans, had to be careful when trying to cultivate it, given that our abilities were known, historically, to over-feed the plant and cause it to die. If you were developing telekinesis or telepathy, however, I think we would know.” He gets an interested look in his eye, and adds, “ _Do_ humans have mental abilities?”

Lance answered by staring, very hard, at the mug on the table in front of him, next to his foot. It was full of that horrible Altean tea, but it was all Lance had, since he hadn’t been able to bear asking Keith for any of _his_ stash. Lance had been horribly under steeping it, so that it felt more like drinking hot water with a hint of iron, and not like liquid knives. Coran watched with a concerned expression as Lance attempted to lift the cup with his mind, before falling backwards and giving up, leaning back until his chair was balanced on the rear legs. “Nope, guess not. And unless you’re thinking about how _devilishly handsome_ I am, I don’t think I can read your minds, either.”

There was a small chorus of chuckles from the group, and Lance couldn’t help but smile, and laugh himself. He noticed, however, because of _course_ he noticed, Keith was like a goddamn magnet for his attention, that Keith froze mid-chuckle, and a hint of pink flared up in the red paladin’s cheeks for a moment. Lance choked at that sight, and then fell as his chair tipped too far, and his back slammed into the ground. His flailing leg hit his cup, and the hot, mostly-clear liquid went flying as Lance’s hands went to his throat. Pain and discomfort shuddered through his body as he coughed, and, as had been happening recently, there was the _distinctly unpleasant_ sensation of a mostly-whole flower stalk sliding up. It bumped the back of his throat, and he gagged, and then shoved a hand into his mouth.

Hunk had gotten up and rushed to Lance’s side as he let out a muffled sound of pain, fingers grabbing onto petals and ripping them away clumsily. He _felt_ the petals tearing, almost like how one feels a scrape, and the petals came out oozing blood. Lance shuddered, and coughed again, and got a firm hold on the stalk, underneath the many blossoms that formed the flower itself, and whimpered as he felt the tug inside of him. His throat was trying to close up, trying to block off his lungs so he could swallow or spit, but the stalks prevented it. He felt dizzy as he gave a sharp tug, and felt a burst of pain, and then the stalks slid up out of his mouth, the leaves feeling like thin knives as his throat closed around them and Lance choked and gasped. His mouth felt sticky--there was probably blood around it, or at least a portion of it.

Not even Hunk’s comforting hand on his back could keep Lance from shivering at the sight of the stalk of flowers in his hand, the green ends torn and oozing blood. His blood. His whole mouth tasted like bile and blood. Lance coughed, groping for where his cup _had_ been, and then groaned quietly--his cup had spilled when he kicked it. The sting in his throat was painful, and he had wanted something warm to soothe it.

“You okay Lance?” Hunk asked, offering a hand to Lance to stand. Hunk’s brown eyes flickered to the bloody flowers still clasped in Lance’s other hand, and his expression grew grave. Lance didn’t have to look to the others to know that they were also looking at it in concern, and his hand tightened around it unconsciously, crushing some of the petals.

He cleared his throat, tried to answer, ‘yes’, but closed his mouth with a click after the flare of pain, instead giving a strained nod to Hunk. The yellow paladin sat down uncomfortably, and Lance felt the eyes of the rest of the team on him, and felt tears sting his eyes. Clearing his throat again, he rasped, “I’m gonna get more--tea,” and then left quickly.

He made it about five steps past the doors before he realized that he had left his mug on the floor, and turned, uncertainly. He did want something to soothe his throat, but also didn’t...want to have everyone staring at him like that. Hunk fluttered around him like he was going to just keel over and die any minute. Lance hated that, because...well, he didn’t _think_ he was just going to up and die, but Hunk’s concern made it feel like it was a very likely thing. Shiro felt guilty for keeping Lance’s secret for so long, and Lance couldn’t bear his pained, guilt-filled glances. Pidge was wholly upset about the entire situation, which was manifesting as anger--anger at the plant, anger at the suit’s damaged filtration system, anger at _Lance_ for keeping it a secret for so long. Allura and Coran had a quiet desperation about the way they studied--Lance knew it was because they had lost so much already, and couldn’t bear to lose him too. And Keith...Lance didn’t know what to think about Keith’s emotions. They were unreadable and wild and one minute he thought Keith hated him and wanted nothing to do with him, but other times Keith looked so concerned that Lance felt like he was going to choke on the urge to go over and...well he didn’t know what but he hated the pain in Keith’s eyes. And other times Keith was just as mad as Pidge, sometimes slamming the datapad down and storming out, usually after Lance had a coughing fit.

No, it probably wasn’t worth going back for. He’d....he’d have to grab a cloth or something and clean up the spilled tea, as well. Lance shuffled into the kitchen, a hand idly wrapped around his throat, trying to ignore the pain of breath over a raw throat, when the door slid open behind Lance. Standing in the doorway, holding Lance’s discarded mug and a square box was Keith. His eyes flickered uncertainly to Lance, and then his brows lowered somewhat, and he stepped into the room.

Keith carefully set down the mug and the box, and looked Lance up and down. His mouth twisted, eyes lingering on Lance’s mouth, and he felt a moment’s self consciousness, aware that he probably looked like a mess--blood on his mouth, on his hands, still clutching at his throat and the bloody flowers that he’d pulled from his mouth. Hunching his shoulders, Lance looked away from Keith, not wanting to see how the other teen’s face would tilt in disgust.

“Lance. I’ll make you some tea. Real stuff, not Altean tea. You should probably clean yourself off and get rid of...that.” Lance’s fingers tightened around the flower stalk, and he nodded mutely. Of course Keith was being nice to him now, now that Keith knew he was sick. Lance hated it, hated knowing that Keith _pitied_ him, hated feeling so weak, hated this flower, hated himself...but he couldn’t really bring himself to hate Keith. No, of course he couldn’t, not not that he had deciphered his feelings for the broody red paladin. Certainly not when every moment his heart beat dizzily and his mind swirled with thoughts of Keith was another moment free from the looming stress and panic. Any moment where he had peace from his own fears was something to be cherished.

“Sure, yeah.” He nodded jerkily, and started towards the exit. He paused and turned towards Keith, watching as he cleaned the cup out, and started the hot water. “Hey Keith? Thanks.”

Keith turned, as if surprised Lance was still there, his eyes wide, and nodded slowly. “Just, take care of yourself, Lance.” Lance nodded and left, but not before he heard, almost too low to hear, “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

\----------

“Okay, Lance. Go ahead and try to drink this.” Pidge held up a glass full of what _looked_ like an orange-smoothie. It certainly didn’t smell like one, but had the same sort of texture one would expect from a smoothie. Lance accepted it hesitantly, and looked at it as Pidge squinted at her notes. It had been four days since the rest of the team had found out about Lance’s illness, and the flower seemed damnably obstinate. Lance had suffered through two other attempts to rid himself of the flowers--one had been inhaling something that made him dizzy and pass out, the other had him sitting under a lamp Hunk had put together with the help of Coran. It had given him a sunburn despite his dark skin and seemed to help a little--he didn’t cough as much that day, and when he did manage to choke up a handful of flower petals, they seemed wilted, and had brown around the edges. But after more exposure to the weird light, Lance had started feeling weak, and tired, and then started screaming from sudden and intense pain inside of him. Only after several vital scans had they found that the plant was draining Lance’s nutrients, energy, whatever, in alarming amounts to try and resist the light, the roots burrowing into flesh and nerves.

“I don’t know if I can handle too many more science projects,” Lance murmured, but obligingly lifted the glass to his lips, his brows wrinkling in concern. The first touch of the liquid to his tongue set his teeth on edge--it was sour, and acidic, and made his stomach churn disagreeably. Pidge watched nervously as his free hand tightened into a fist, and Lance threw back his head, chugging the foul concoction as tears stung his eyes and began to stream down his face. He was gagging before the cup had even left his lips, and gasping for breath, struggling to keep it down, but finally he did manage to calm his heaving stomach without just sending the evil smoothie back up again.

“Its science projects or the Ixari and never getting rid of this thing,” Pidge snapped, and pressed a cool hand to his forehead. She made a small clucking noise, and then stepped back. “You’re probably going to feel sick, but this is as close to weedkiller as I could get without flooding your system with toxic chemicals. Try to keep it down for a long as possible, but its likely that you’ll need to throw it back up.” Pidge drummed her fingers on the table. “I’ve more or less replicated the chemical compound that Hunk was having your body absorb from the light. Hunk was trying to slowly poison the plant with a relatively harmless chemical, but it reacted to the damage by draining you to replace the damaged parts. So by flooding your system with the same chemical, we should cause much more damage in a shorter time, and hopefully before the plant can absorb enough of your energy to fight it off.”

“Pidge, that doesn’t sound...safe,” Lance protested. Already his head was starting to swim, although he wasn’t sure if it was because of the knowledge of what he’d just drank, or because his stomach was trying to flip over inside of him.

“Don’t worry,” Pidge said, “I tested it on myself. Its not a compound found on Earth, but Coran helped me get more information on the chemical form, but Apatraltur is safe for humans as long as it isn’t allowed to aerate too much. If it absorbs too much oxygen it gets a little toxic, but even then it won’t cause any lasting harm.” Her eyebrows sunk down. “Believe me, I tested that too. Just. Try to keep it down, buddy.”

And with a pat on the back, Pidge helped Lance into his bed, hooked him back up to his various sensors, and left a bucket near his bed. Lance managed to make it through a half an hour groaning and holding his stomach as his vision sparked and his stomach felt bloated and unhappy before he breathed in too deeply, and was blindly leaning over the bed, scarcely managing to hit the bucket and not just make a mess, as that virulent, horrible-tasting smoothie came back up.

Then he passed out.

\----------

Keith found himself returning to the med bay, at night, when everyone else had gone. After that last attempt to rid Lance of the heart-lily--three _days_ ago--Lance had passed out, and fell into a fitful sleep, that deepened until everyone was overly concerned. They didn’t dare to put him in the healing pod, not with their new knowledge of what the essence did to the flower within him--it might literally spell Lance’s death.

Pidge had been distraught, pulling at her hair and crying. Coran had returned shortly after to inform everyone of the results of extensive scanning and testing. Pidge wasn’t comforted much by the news that the plant had been severely weakened, because the result of that was the listless, semi-coma slumber that Lance was currently caught in. The plant had, _somehow_ put Lance’s body into an emergency-shutdown mode, and had then proceeded to drain most of his energy to keep itself alive. It was a stressful situation, and if Keith had been in a better frame of mind, he might have been able to see that everyone else was just as distraught as he was.

But Keith wasn’t in a stable frame of mind. At first he had thrown himself into studying the plant. He had read book after book about it, about the aliens who had grown it, and eventually welcomed it into their bodies and culture. Most of it had shot over his head, of course, but it had been vital information. He had gone over notes with Pidge and Hunk, had explained what he knew about what a human body could handle--after all, living alone in the desert, he had what could be considered first hand expertise on exactly _how much_ was too much for a human. But in the end, it hadn’t been enough.

When Lance first passed out, Hunk had been in the room with him, for most of the day. Keith, although he had a feeling Hunk knew _exactly_ how upset he was, hadn’t wanted to intrude on the yellow paladin’s time with Lance, and so had relocated himself to the training room during the daytime. His bruises from the first session had only scarcely begun to heal, but Keith had fought with worse. This time, at least, he had less energy to burn. Each subsequent running of the training programs left him a little closer to empty, each adrenaline crash closer to exhaustion.

Desperately, he threw himself into training, wishing, hoping, even _praying_ , that it would be enough to keep his mind blank. But his mind was in a panic. Any and every thought led through twisting lines to where Lance lay, barely breathing, not really sleeping, drinking only soup and goo, with all of the Altean’s advanced medical knowledge trying to wake him from the slumber he was in. And Keith didn’t want to think about the very real possibility that Lance was dying, not here, and not now.

Particularly not since things between him and Lance had seemed...better. Once everyone had found out about Lance’s secret, Keith’s presence no longer was met with the same discomfort as before. Keith couldn’t tell if it was because Lance had bigger things to think about, or whether Keith’s gestures--small, thoughtful gestures that he just _could not_ keep himself from making, no matter how much he wanted to--were genuinely helping. Sure, Lance had accepted the tea Keith offered with a small smile, and seemed pleased when Keith thoughtlessly shot down one of Lance’s dumber comments, obviously said to get a rise. And for a few days, Lance had seemed like he was almost normal, without the secret of his illness keeping him from being his usual lively self. But then _this_ had to happen.

It was probably late enough now. Keith sliced the last gladiator bot into sparking, malfunctioning pieces and decided he felt too tired to continue. Keith let his bayard’s sword dissipate, and took a deep breath. There was a good chance that Hunk would be gone. He was a perceptive one, Hunk, and Keith felt warmth flood his cheeks at the knowledge that Hunk would probably clear out simply because he knew that Keith wanted to be with Lance. Keith wasn’t as close with the yellow paladin as Lance or the other team members, but there had been times where he had found himself talking, very quietly, with Hunk about Earth, but mostly listening to Hunk talk fondly. Particularly when Hunk caught Keith just coming into the med bay.

Bruised and bleeding from cuts that Keith didn’t bother to cover--they would heal--Keith showered and changed out of his armor, and walked as quietly as he could to the med bay. And as he had hoped, the med bay was empty, Hunk having gone to seek out his own bed. Keith trudged over to the seat next to Lance’s bed, and sat heavily, staring at the unconscious form half-wrapped in blankets.

Lance, as he often did these days, had that faint fragrant scent about him. Keith had a sneaking suspicion--more than, at this point--that the scent wasn’t any sort of perfume that Lance put on, but a byproduct of the flower. Infuriatingly, a byproduct that only _he_ seemed able to smell. He’d asked Coran about whether the flower made a scent, and had cast his mind back over the endless series of books and papers he’d read, but aside from Coran’s thoughtful comment that the Haixian heart-lily was one of the most beautiful scents in the galaxy, and a few cryptic sentences in the papers he’d read, there was no indication as to why _Keith_ could smell it but the other paladins could not. And even now, there was something so _Lance_ about the smell, as if Keith’s brain could think of nothing to go with it but warm blue eyes and genuine smiles.

Keith breathed in that scent now, and felt some of the anxiety in his chest flutter to life again, taking in Lance’s quiescent form. He was distinctly aware of the fact that he probably shouldn’t be here. In the back of his mind, he knew that it was weird--creepy, bordering on stalkerish, actually--to be here while Lance was unconscious. There was no real danger here on the castle-ship. Keith himself knew that as well as anyone, given his strained relationship with sleep. And honestly, in case of danger, Keith should have been resting. After all, they had been on a fairly straight course, with no real wormhole usage while everyone was researching the heart-lily. But he still felt a need to be here. And, either way, he would be up all night, trying to sleep and failing as his brain turned around thoughts and brought up memories that shouldn’t be disturbed. At the very least, he could keep Lance company, and hope the blue paladin could somehow... _sense_ his presence.

Keith settled for leaning back in the chair, letting his mind wander, anxious thoughts curling around him like smoke, not really analyzing his emotions or feelings, merely feeling them. As thoughts and wishes and wants floated to the forefront of his thoughts, he allowed them to happen, rather than force them away. After all, what was the harm in allowing himself to wish, to _yearn_ for Lance to be awake, and alive, and warm in his arms?

A soft, upset sound grabbed Keith’s attentions, a distressed noise that came from a throat raspy with disuse. Keith stood up, startling, to see Lance’s eyelids moving, his mouth quirked downwards in displeasure. Lance’s sleeping brow furrowed. Keith watched for a moment as Lance started to move, and then he realized: Lance was having a nightmare. Keith was at Lance’s side in a moment, hardly aware of what he was doing, pressing his hand to Lance’s shoulder and stroking his hair with the other, murmuring comforting words. “It’s okay Lance. You’re okay. You’re sick, but you’re alright. It’s just a dream.” His voice was quiet, and yet Lance seemed to hear it, a questioning noise working its way out of his throat before Keith shushed him. “Sleep, Lance. I’m here. It’s okay.”

Lance quieted under Keith’s touch, and with his voice, and Keith felt such a bittersweet warmth bubble up in his chest, painful in its intensity. The red paladin re-took his seat, scooting closer, leaving one hand warm on Lance’s shoulder. Somehow, despite the uncomfortable position, Keith found himself dozing off.

\----------

At first Lance was swimming. It must have been night, because Lance couldn’t see very far in front of him--only the water illuminated by the faintest light of the moon and stars, which he knew must be overhead. And yet when he looked they were not there. But, in the way of dreams, he knew they were, and as such, their light made the water ripple and reflect in that faintly magical way that all water does in the dark. The water was warm, and pleasant and familiar against his skin. It reminded him of his home, and his favorite place: the beach. He could practically hear his family shouting and laughing behind him, over the ever-present waves, crashing into him on a smooth rhythm that only the ocean knew.

He swam forward, feeling the water rise higher and higher around him, until the sandy floor sunk lower than his feet could touch. Then, fully afloat in the water, he dove underneath, his eyes closing as the water closed around his head. Strong, smooth strokes brought him further out, and as he went the water got...warmer. And thicker. Lance expected the resistance of the tide, or a current, and surfaced, gasping, his eyes flickering open to catch his bearings. Instead, a scream caught in his throat.

The water was dark in the moonlight, dark...but not black. And it wasn’t clear, nor reflecting the light. With horror, Lance splashed, and watched as his hand emerged from the water, coated in the same darkness. Then the smell hit him. Copper and iron, tangling in his nose, familiar and acrid. He gasped, and as he did so, it got into his mouth--blood. Hot blood, all around him, sliding over his skin, coagulating as he flailed, trying in vain to get away. Each splash coated him further, until he had no visible skin, only layer of drying blood, gaining another coat as he dipped his arms in again to try and swim away, to flee. Horror and disgust warred at the feeling, slime and heat bubbling around him.

The light steadily increased, until the black-red blood around him was unmistakable. Each time Lance tried to open his mouth to scream or call for help, another wave splashed over him, until he choked on the taste, and was struggling to stay afloat. Then he noticed the petals, floating in the water. Some of them were also coated, the little waves painting over their delicate colors. Some of them were actually just red, a bright flame red that stood out against the thickening garnet of the blood. But the color started shifting, to purple, and then to blue, until they were a deep cornflower blue with hints and flecks of a deep ocean within then, swirling around with sunset purples and reds, clumping together on the surface of a sea of blood.

Hands began to tug at Lance’s feet, pulling him down until he was underneath the surface. He opened his mouth to scream, and blood poured in, filing his lungs with hot, soupy blood, until he felt like he was bursting with pain, pain shooting through his chest and down his spine, like jagged lightning that cut and tore through him.

Then a hand grabbed his shoulder, and pulled him up, up, up. Out of the blood, which poured from his body in clinging strands. Lance coughed away the blood in his lungs, feeling even now, in the dream, the stems of a flower pressing against him as he swallowed and choked.

“ _Shhh, It’s okay Lance. You’re okay. You’re sick, but you’re alright. It’s just a dream._ ” Keith voice, rich, melodious, familiar and comforting, floated to his ears. Lance felt a soothing touch in his hair, and tears smoothed a clean brown track in the drying blood on his face. He shuddered, and reached up to cling at his shoulder, where Keith’s hand was, listening to Keith’s comforting voice, murmuring until the blood faded, and the fear faded, and he was simply asleep, peaceful and tired.

When Lance blinked awake, the first thing he saw was Keith, his eyes closed and breath even. His head was resting on the edge of Lance’s bed, an arm curled under it like a makeshift pillow. The other arm was stretched out, Keith’s fingertips lightly touching Lance’s arm. Lance froze, his emotions washing over him in a deluge. _Keith_ was here, in the medbay with him, and from the looks of it had been here all night. His heart beat painfully against his ribs, and his breath quickened--the sting of his breath was worth the sight. Lance hesitated; he wanted to get closer, to hold Keith in his arms, to breathe in Keith’s scent. If...he was being completely honest with himself, he wanted to press kisses to Keith’s skin, and just be _close_ to him.

Despite Keith’s thoughtful gestures, though, and the distance between them that had grown lessening slightly, Lance knew he couldn’t get his hopes up. He shouldn’t. For god’s sake he was probably going to die. He felt weak enough as it was, with twinges of pain in his chest and stings of pain as he breathed in his throat. At the very least though...he could have this. Lance breathed out a soft sigh, and with a boldness he didn’t usually feel, Lance shifted slowly, fitting his hand over Keith’s. He entangled their fingers, and let the image burn itself into his mind.

Sometime after taking Keith’s hand, Lance felt a moment of peace. He still felt an ache in his chest, from the dual pains of the plant, as well as his heart, longing for more than this closeness. But it was enough. He felt safe here, with Keith’s hand warm in his own, hearing the soft breath of the other paladin in his ears like a comforting white noise. Lance fell asleep, his body curled around where his and Keith’s hand rested. It was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was getting a little long--a real DOOZY really, so I cut it and posted this part a little early. 
> 
> Next chapter will have the mysterious Ixari, and save Lance from impending doom, though possibly not the plant inside of him. 
> 
> It will also signal where this REALLY splits off from typical hanahaki themes, because this, unlike magical illnesses where flowers poof into existence, is more or less permanent.


	6. Petals Mirror Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come to a head.
> 
> We meet the Ixari, and there is a promise for a tomorrow.
> 
> Keith finds out what that damn perfume _really_ means.

When Lance woke up, things were both different, and not. Keith’s hand was still warm in his own, and he still felt that swirling warmth inside of him, close to his core, with the faintest ache. Slowly Lance breathed in, and uncurled himself, darting a glance over to Keith. Heat suffused his cheeks as he saw that Keith was very much _not_ still asleep--instead he had allowed his hand to be claimed by Lance, and with the other was calmly scrolling down a datapad resting on the edge of the bed. Keith’s eyes flicked over to Lance as his breathing changed, and Lance could have _sworn_ that he saw a hint of a smile curl his lips before Keith straightened and turned the datapad off.

“Hi,” Lance said--well, whispered, more like. His voice came out dry and breathy, and it wasn’t until he swallowed that he realized that his throat was both incredibly dry and terribly sore. He was also _very_ conscious of the fact that his hand still held Keith’s captive, how warm Keith’s hand was in his own, despite the skin-warm leather gloves. And yet, he was reluctant to let it go, as if, now that he had been caught in it--apparently _indulged_ in it--he had very little to gain from hiding it. Lance didn’t care to analyze the feeling, and instead left his hand as it was.

“Hey. How are you feeling? I’ve got something for you to drink here.” Keith’s voice was equally low as he turned in his seat and grabbed a water-packet from a nearby tray, spearing it with a straw. Lance frowned at the tray--that hadn’t been here when Pidge gave him the smoothie. Had he slept that hard? But he accepted the drink, and took a sip through the little straw. The instant the water touched his tongue, Lance realized just how _thirsty_ he was, and found himself trying to squeeze the pack to get the water into his mouth faster. “H-hey easy there. Don’t drink too fast. You might make yourself sick.” Lance was too busy trying to assuage the sudden and burning thirst to take much heed, and it was only after he had drained the whole packet that he realized maybe Keith had been right. His stomach churned uncomfortably, but...his throat wasn’t nearly as dry.

“God that...concoction Pidge made was horrible. I think she’s ruined smoothies for me forever.” There was something about Keith’s expression that was making Lance nervous, that said he was missing something. Given that the last time he woke up to a worried teammate meant that he had just vomited blood and flower petals at them, Lance was perhaps justifiable in the flicker of fear that shot through him. And yet, a tired part of him didn’t _want_ to hear whatever bad news he would get next. So he babbled on. “It tasted like battery acid, you know, and despite her assurances it was safe, I’m _pretty_ sure that battery acid isn’t safe to eat. Or drink. Or whatever. Do smoothies count as food, or drink? Anyways, that _paint-stripper_ that I drank was horrible, and I..think it gave me nightmares. Although they stopped...” he trailed off, and then looked at his hand, still entwined with Keith’s. Feeling a bit dumbstruck as a thought occurred to him, Lance looked up at Keith. “Was that because of you?”

Keith’s hand twitched in his grip, and Keith’s expression grew pained for a single moment, before his face smoothed out and returned to its usual semi-blank expression, although he still looked slightly uncomfortable. “You seemed to be...having a nightmare, yes.” The words slipped out of Keith’s mouth like an admission of guilt, and the red paladin seemed unable or unwilling to meet his eyes suddenly. “I should go get Shiro and everyone. They’ll want to know you’re awake.” Keith started to pull away, and Lance made a protesting noise as Keith’s hand slipped out of his own.

“Hey, I can come too. I was only napping after that awful smoothie. Seriously, don’t--” Lance made a motion to get up and swing out of bed, only to find the effort it took to sit up and turn so that his legs were off of the bed was _far_ more than it usually was. His head swum, and Keith was there in a moment, pushing him back down into the bed. Fear gripped Lance’s chest then, and he swallowed thickly. “Keith. Keith what...why am I so...? Something’s wrong. Don’t leave--”

“Shhh, it’s okay Lance. Shiro will explain. You were...asleep longer than you thought. Just--” Pressing his hands into Lance’s shoulders, Keith cast about and then sighed in relief. “Oh, thank god, good its there. I’m gonna call the others, I won’t leave Lance, I’m just going to grab the comm device.” Keith was speaking slowly, and perhaps at another time Lance might have been upset, but at the moment he was reeling, casting his mind back to try and remember what had happened. panic lingering just under the surface.

Keith deftly picked up a little square device, and Lance recognized it as something Pidge had been fiddling with a couple weeks ago. Had she perfected it?

“Guys, I hope you’ve got these on. Lance is awake and he’s--a little confused and upset...Can you hear me? C’mon Pidge _said_ she was gonna--” Keith pressed the device to his mouth, and spoke slowly, pausing for several moments and then cursing. Finally, there was a crackle and fizzle of sound from the device.

“Keith! I’m here! I’ll get Shiro and Hunk.” Pidge’s voice was tinny and distorted, but Lance would recognize it anywhere. Keith sagged, visibly relaxing as the device crackled a little more. 

“Thanks Pidge. Can you get Lance something to eat?”

“Roger.”

Keith put the comm unit back onto the tray and turned his attention back to Lance, who had watched everything with a sort of mindless desperation--focus on what’s happening, and not his reeling thoughts, the churning anxiety in his stomach, or the little sparks of pain inside of him. _Don’t_ focus on his breathing, or how the air felt on raw skin or--

“Lance, calm down.” Lance’s eyes jumped to Keith’s, the strange gray-violet hue catching his attention and holding it. Lance swallowed, and nodded, not trusting his voice. Keith’s face softened, and he sat down, his concerned gaze never leaving Lance’s face. “Shiro will be here soon, and I’m sure Allura, Pidge, and Hunk will be here too. They’ll fill you in.” And Keith would say no more.

The wait was hardly long. The group arrived, and the first thing Lance registered was a crying Pidge throwing herself at him, tears streaming down her face. She wrapped her arms around him and he was too _surprised_ to do anything but hug her back and pat her back awkwardly. He shot a confused glance at Shiro, whose brow creased.

“He doesn’t remember anything,” Keith murmured to Shiro, quietly enough that Lance hardly heard it over Pidge’s babble of apologies and hiccuping cries.

“Oh my god, Lance, I’m so sorry. I tested it on myself but I didn’t stop to think about how the plant would react to it--I mean, I thought it was probably going to try to do what it did when Hunk introduced the Apatraltur to your system, but I had _no idea_ that it would react so violently to the chemical. I’m just--so glad you’re alright.” Pidge hardly breathed during the whole stream of words, burying her face into his shoulder and squeezing him hard enough to hurt before she pulled back.

“Keith says he doesn’t remember anything, Pidge, maybe slow down a little.” Shiro stood by the side of the bed, crossing his arms. His tone was serious, and it sent another shiver of fear down Lance’s spine. He...didn’t like the look on Shiro’s face, the hurt glint in Shiro’s eyes, particularly when it was coupled with the determination that he saw fill out Shiro’s face after taking in a long breath. “Lance, you’ve been unconscious for over a week.”

Lance felt rather like the bed beneath him--no, the entire floor--had opened up and sucked him in. “A week--”

“Yes, _more than_ a week. Without being able to put you in the healing pod, we’ve only been able to monitor your vitals and do scans and...” Shiro pursed his lips. “For a while there things were very bad. The chemical that Pidge used _did_ work, but a little bit too well. Your body--shut down. You’ve been practically comatose.”

Lance opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to process that information. He was saved from having to actually answer by Hunk appearing in the doorway, nervously carrying a large bowl that was steaming. The relief that rushed over Hunk’s face made Lance feel faint and the _smell_ of the soup that he found put in his lap was heavenly. He shot Shiro puppy-dog eyes, mouth watering, and received a strained smile in return.

“Go ahead Lance, eating is more important. You’ve got a weeks worth of meals to make up for.” Shiro gestured, a pensive expression on his face, and sank down into a seat. Lance jumps on the opportunity to both push the conversation away, and eat.

“Ohmygod _Hunk_ you are the best cook _ever_.” Lance moaned around a spoonful of the soup, which was flavorful and thick and had chunks of _vegetables_ and _meat_ and he didn’t _care_ if it wasn’t actual earth-vegetables and meat, it was close enough and somehow Hunk had managed to create the soothing taste of chicken noodle soup without either chicken or noodles, which was, in Lance’s opinion, an achievement.

Hunk smiled at the praise, but there was still a shadow in his eyes. “I tried to put as many nutrient-rich ingredients in there. You’d never believe it, but Coran helped pick a lot of the things that went in. Should get you up and at’em in no time.” His voice lacked some spirit, but it was cheerful enough.

Pidge, still teary-eyed, seemed to have blamed herself for sending Lance into a semi-coma, and sat next to him on the bed, her arms wrapped around him. Lance felt a little self-conscious about her head pressed against his chest--usually his breath rattled from the plant, and from her occasional winces, he could tell she could hear it. Either that or his messy inhalation of the soup bothered her. But Lance, now knowing that he hadn’t eaten for _a week_ was pretty sure that the churning in his stomach was mostly from hunger, and only a full belly could fix it. So he stuffed himself until he couldn’t eat anymore, and then wrapped his arms around Pidge, patting her back. Hunk took the bowl, but didn’t leave, instead turning to look at Shiro.

Lance followed Hunk’s gaze, and felt his stomach drop a little as Shiro took a deep breath. “Lance. I know you’re resistant to the idea...” Lance felt his stomach dropping more. No, no, whatever Shiro was going to say, he really, _really_ didn’t want to hear it... “But I think we should head to planet Haixia. The plant might be weakened right now from Pidge’s chemical, but it did a lot of internal damage to your body as a result. I have no doubt that it’s only going to get worse.” His voice was heavy with the truth that Lance didn’t want to hear, and the blue paladin found himself shaking his head, unwilling to listen or accept that this might be the only option.

“Shiro, no, we--can’t,” he protested weakly, feeling Pidge’s arms around him tighten. “There’s gotta be something we can do, some treatment or machine we can use...”

“Lance, _no_!” He was expecting Shiro or even Hunk to protest, but it was Pidge who shouted, looking up at him with eyes red and swollen from crying. “You don’t _understand_. The Apatraltur sent the plant into _overdrive_. It’s burrowing into your _lungs_. If it manages to puncture them, or even your throat...you’re going to die. It’s done a good job at integrating with your nervous system, but the plant knows its being attacked. It drained you almost to critical levels before...but if we try anything again, it _will_ kill you.” Her wide eyes implored Lance to reconsider. “We--can’t lose you, Lance.”

“Yeah. I know. Without me, you can’t form Voltron--”

“Voltron nothing!” Hunk burst out. “Lance, I know its hard for you to get through your thick head, but _some_ of us would _miss_ you if you died. The whole team has been shaken. While you were out, we had to fend off a Galra warship, and almost got ourselves killed because everyone is so sick from worrying about you! I know you don’t like it, but this is our only option. Please, man. If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for me.” Hunk’s voice trembled, at that.

“And I’m not going to do any more ‘science experiments’,” Pidge said quietly, looking down at the bed, her arms tightening around Lance again. “I’m not going to mess around when it could kill you, Lance. I won’t risk it.”

Shiro cut in, finally uncrossing his arms. His thick eyebrows had sunk into a scowl, and his mouth was a firm, disapproving line. Worry and stress pinched his face, and for the first time, Lance realized that his constant refusal to accept this thing was putting stress on him--no, on the whole team. Lance _hated_ being sick, he hated having no real control over how he looked or what he put out for others to see. And almost always he pushed away things he didn’t like, sweeping them under a facade of jokes and lightheartedness. If he was scared, or worried, or upset, it was easy enough to ignore. But by doing so, for so long, he had just been shoving that worry onto his teammates. And that strain showed in Shiro’s voice.

“Whether you agree to it or not, we are setting a course to Haixia. We can’t afford to have it progress so far that even the Ixari might not be able to fix it, Lance. I...don’t want to make you do this but I can’t let you just throw your life away like this.” Lance saw Shiro’s jaw tick, saw the too-tense line of his leader’s shoulders, and looked down at the bed, feeling like his whole body was a tightrope. Didn’t want to see what Shiro wasn’t saying: ‘ _I’m responsible for you. I can’t be the cause of your death._ ’

“I’m scared,” Lance admitted, too quietly.

“And we know that, Lance. We’re all scared too. For you. You mean a lot--not just because you’re the blue paladin, but because you’re our _friend_ and our _teammate_.” Shiro sat at the foot of the bed, looking up at Lance, still with Pidge clinging to him like a limpet. “But Lance. We’re _here for you_.”

“This past week was horrible,” Hunk admitted, joining everyone else on the bed. “Lance, you’re like, the glue that keeps this team together. without you everything is too quiet, too serious. Not to mention we seriously suck in battle without you watching our backs. But it goes both ways, man. We got your back too.”

Lance nodded once, jerkily. “Fine. Take me to Haixia. L-let’s see what the Ixari can do about this. Sh-should’ve known that you guys can hardly pilot a ship without me there. Best pilot on the team.” A shaky smile worked its way onto his face--not quite genuine, but an attempt, even now. A peace offering, of sorts.

It was like a tension filling the room had snapped, the weight in the air instead settling over Lance’s shoulders. It was true. He was scared. Not just of dying, but of the unknown, looming possibility that he might have this plant his entire life. And he didn’t know what that meant for him, not really. This was all--so much more than Lance was really capable of handling to be honest. From the beginning, everything was mostly go-with-the-flow. Lance found his lips lifting in a bit of a smile at the thought. First being more or less _abducted_ from Earth by a magical robotic lion, then becoming a paladin of an ancient, long-dead race. And now dealing with a possibly life-threatening alien illness. Oh how different things were from how Lance expected things to go.

Different, and yet not really. He closed his eyes as Hunk joined Pidge in the hug, and Shiro laid a hand on Lance’s shoulder. The only thing missing was Keith, his absence like a small hole in the weave of the team. It, too, weighed on Lance’s shoulders.

\----------

Nervous energy filled Lance as he joined the others at the bridge. He had more or less forced the rest of the team to let him walk with them. Even though he was shaking and weak, and probably _should_ be resting, he couldn’t meet these aliens strapped to a bed like an invalid. Coran gave him a small shot, to ‘pep you right up’ and keep him on his feet during the meeting, and Hunk stayed and helped him get dressed--not into his clothes, he noticed, but into his paladin armor. The sturdy plates helped him to feel more secure on his shaky legs, and also made him feel less vulnerable. Seated in the Blue Paladin’s chair, with his helmet on his lap, and his teammates similarly armored and seated, this whole thing felt a little bit more like a mission, instead of a last-ditch effort to keep him alive. The underscore to that, of course, was the bouts of coughing Lance struggled to keep under control, his shoulders shaking until blood was all he could taste, and handfuls of bloody petals were strewn around his chair.

Allura was in her full formal regalia today, standing with Coran at her side, looking very much the part of a princess. With her hands over the control posts, activating the teludav that allowed them to wormhole through space, and Coran gently murmuring the coordinates to her, Lance could almost imagine that he felt the whisper of power that surged through Allura and into the Altean technology, whipping her silver hair up behind her as if in a gale. He certainly felt that tell-tale shivery energy that filled the ship’s air during a wormhole jump, although here in the bridge it felt far more concentrated than it usually felt in the lions or another part of the ship.

He closed his eyes as the viewport filled with the eye-searingly bright blue vortex of the wormhole, and when he opened them, hanging suspended before the castle-ship was a verdant planet that was similar enough--all greens and blues--to Earth to make his heart ache with homesickness. Of course, this was not Earth. It lacked the white-capped mountains and browns and yellows of plains and deserts, and instead had a man-made crown of a verdant green ring-shaped space-port encircling it.

Instantly the castle’s sensors started going off, as lights in the space-port started blinking and flashing. This was the first time that the castle-ship had approached such a technologically advanced planet not already under the thumb of the Galran Empire, and it was somewhat startling to Lance, although neither Allura or Coran seemed surprised at the barrage of sound coming from the castle.

“We are being hailed, Princess,” Coran said smartly, gloved hand already lingering over the button to open frequency. Allura inclined her head, and before their eyes, a screen appeared, to reveal what Lance had to assume was an Ixari. He couldn’t help the small gasp that slid out from his lips, or how his eyes widened. There were similar reactions from the other paladins, and even Allura’s eyes widened slightly.

Lance had read about the Ixari of course. But there had never been any _pictures_ in the files that he had sifted through. There had been a snippet about how the Ixari rejected digital portrayals of themselves, and out of respect the Alteans had kept such images to a minimal, mostly in medical manuscripts. But...

Lance hadn’t expected them to be _beautiful_.

The Ixari on the screen was a tall, widely built creature. Wide perhaps implies that it was statuesque, but it was not. Graceful and powerful, the alien had pale lilac skin that had a faint silvery shimmer to it--like a moth’s wing coated in dust. A cascade of dusk-colored hair, in a mane to rival Allura’s own, surged around and behind the Ixari like a cape. Faintly glowing silver markings swirled on its skin, little natural accents that flared with surprise as wide silver eyes took in Allura and Coran.

But the most notable feature of the striking Ixari was the plant. Sprouting from the center of its chest was a lush plant, with clinging vines coated in the same silver dust as the Ixari’s skin and delicate leaves curled around its body in a facsimile of clothing. Six-petaled lily-like flowers blossomed from just about every inch of vine visible, the petals star-white with a faint speckling of cream to the petals. The longer Lance looked, the more flowers he saw--tiny buds and sprouts literally growing out of the Ixari’s skin.

“Unidentified vessel,” the Ixari began, “Our systems recognize you as an Altean ship. Altea has been lost for thousands of years. How did you come across this relic? What brings you to Haixia?” Despite the words, the Ixari’s obvious surprise and recognition of two Alteans, its voice was guarded.

Spreading her hands in a peaceful gesture, Allura held her head high. “I am princess Allura of Altea, daughter of Alfor, bound to the Lions of Voltron. I come to Haixia with the five Paladins of Voltron to ask for the aid of the Ixari. Once, Altea and Haixia were close allies. I would call upon allies of old once more.” Her voice was smooth and collected, but Lance, used to her speech by now, noticed the faint way that it trembled. Was she...nervous?

The Ixari dipped its head, and spread a three-fingered hand in a gesture that Lance did not recognize. “Princess Allura of Altea. If you would please land at the Ring, we will contact Queen Nomira, assuming you are no Galran spy. If there is aid we can give, Haixia is honor-bound to do so. Be welcome and flourish.” Its thin lips spread in a wide smile, revealing startlingly sharp fangs, and the communication line cut out.

Allura sagged. “That went...rather well. Everyone, please be on your best behavior. Lance...we’ll have you with a doctor soon.”

Everyone shared a _look_ with each other, wide-eyed. Shiro snapped into leader-mode fairly quickly, but Hunk practically had stars in his eyes, and turned to Lance with a smile on his face. But it faded as the initial dazzle left his brain, and the seriousness of the situation sunk back in.

Lance wasn’t sure how to feel.

\----------

Queen Nomira was just as beautiful as her subjects. During the brief time that they had been on Haixia--first on the Ring, and then down on the planet surface proper, Lance had seen dozens of Ixari, as well as, to his surprise, several other races. However, all of them sported plant growth, usually in the form of auxiliary leaves or vines twining subtly around their forms, but also sometimes with colorful bursts of flowers and blossoms. Like Coran had told Lance, the flowers came in all different shapes and sizes, as well as exotic colors and shapes that Lance could hardly put together as ‘flower’ in his mind. And yet it was a beautiful, if somewhat disturbing display.

Queen Nomira had golden skin, with a dusting of gold on her skin, and glowing red markings, like embers--the Ixari were a colorful bunch, it seemed--and her hair, pulled back into an intricate braid, was the same vibrant orange hue as her flowers. Flowers that would be magnificent, if it weren’t for the fact that they bloomed out of where an eye should be, the smooth golden skin below sporting a speckling of smaller orange blossoms and buds that had yet to bloom. Vines and leaves coiled around her neck and trailed down her body, sporting little blossoms shaped like stars. Her other eye, a metallic shimmering gold, was framed by thick lashes, and was just as captivating as the rest of her. And yet Lance could not stop staring at the burst of star-shaped flowers crowding out of her skull, like a bouquet threaded through a narrow-necked vase.

“So you see, Queen Nomira, we come to you in a...difficult situation. We had no idea that the Haixian heart-lily was on the planet, nor that our technology would affect it as such. From what records we have, we know that at its current stage, the heart-lily very likely might overgrow it’s--bearer.”

Nomira tilted her head, her gold-glossed lips quirking in an interested fashion. “How fascinating. Truly, it is fortunate that so many of the old records remain, but I find it an odd chance of fate, that our flowers would find a bearer in one of the paladins, vestiges of an ancient ally. A sign from Haixia, I am sure.” Her golden eye flashed with determination, and Lance watched as the orange flowers _twisted_ before his very eyes, their hue darkening to red-orange. “Surgist Apricoris, please oversee the care of the affected paladin. It would bode ill for Haixia to take him from us before he has truly begun to bloom.”

A green-skinned Ixari--male, which Lance only knew because of the tidbits of knowledge he had gleaned from his research: Apricoris had small horns, about two inches long, sprouting from his brow, the only bit of dimorphism the Ixari had, as far as he could tell--stepped forward. “Of course, my radiant queen. Esteemed Princess Allura, which of your paladins has come into contact with Haixia?”

Allura stretched a hand towards Lance. “The blue paladin. He is--quite far along in growth. There was a recent incident that caused some damage to the lily, and thus to Lance, so he is weak.”

Apricoris’s brown eyes widened in alarm. “Then there is no time to lose. Please follow me, paladin. I will need to thoroughly examine you, and see how great the damage to your body is. If it is as severe as your princess has said, then we will need to act quickly.”

Lance shot a concerned glance at Allura, whose attention was now taken by Queen Nomira once more--talks of alliances--and then to Shiro. Thankfully, Shiro had not looked away, and nodded in understanding. “Hunk, if you would, please accompany Lance. He is the yellow paladin, and Lance’s closest friend. It would bring him comfort, to have him near,” Shiro explained to the green-skinned alien, who had seemed like he was going to protest for a moment. But the Surgist inclined his head, and allowed Hunk to follow as well.

With Hunk’s comforting presence next to him, Lance felt far safer in following the Ixari Surgist through halls of a shining green metal, clear glass, and pillars fully wrapped in flowers and plants. It was one thing to know that the Ixari’s culture and religion revolved around plants, but an entirely separate thing to see them literally _everywhere_ , in a strange mixture of fantasy-esque bursts of plants everywhere, and modern and advanced architecture and technology. Used to the smooth, lines and geometric patterns of the Alteans, or the modern military-aesthetic of the Galaxy Garrison back on earth, the Ixari’s palace seemed almost _whimsical_ in a way that truly underscored the alienness of this place.

By the time Apricoris led Lance and Hunk into a medical examination room Lance was feeling both overwhelmed and weak. Apricoris gave him a quick look-over, and touched a panel gently. Sliding out of the floor, an examination table appeared, with a complicated mechanical apparatus gliding out of a hidden panel in the ceiling.

“Please, blue paladin, lie down on the table. I will be scanning your body and finding the lily. Depending on the location of the roots and how grown it is, we will have several options of re-routing the plants. It will also give me all the medical knowledge I need of your species, since it has been long since we have had Alteans here.”

“Oh, we aren’t Altean,” Hunk said, surprised, as Lance settled nervously on the table. “We’re humans, from planet Earth.”

“And yet, you serve the Altean princess?” Apricoris seemed mostly distracted by tapping a screen that flickered to life delicately.

“The lions choose their paladins,” Hunk offered after a moment of thought. This seemed to satisfy Apricoris well enough, as he turned his full attention to the screen, as the machine from the ceiling sunk lower. Then a beam of light traced over Lance, scanning his body in way that made his skin tingle.

“Oh dear. This...is more advanced than your princess led on. I was hoping to perhaps transplant to a more desirable location, but the root spread...” Green fingers slid over the display, showing a human body in colored lines and lights, with streaks of red, blue, and green highlighting certain areas. Apricoris traced several of them, and rotated the body on the screen, tracing out several places in a bright yellow. “And...blooming already? Despite the damage. Haixia...”

Serious brown eyes turned to Lance and Hunk, with arch brows lowered seriously. “I do not know how your lily was so severely damaged, but blue paladin, you are lucky to be alive right now. The plant is currently dormant, recovering from severe chemical damage, as is the tissue it is connected to. We have a very small window to reroute the plant so that it does not harm you and completes its integration. Without a fully-formed bond, the roots could cause untold damage to your internal organs. Humans, it seems, are very delicate compared to Ixari and Ixarites. Once you bond fully, this will change, but for now...” Apricoris sighed softly. “For now you need to make a decision. I suggest re-routing through the back, but we can easily achieve the side as well--”

“R-reroute? I don’t _want_ you to reroute it. Can you take it out? Remove it?” Lance sat up, feeling his chest tighten in panic. The doctor hadn’t even _offered_ to take the plant out, which means that...most likely Allura was right. The Ixari wouldn’t take it out. But...he had to try. Hunk was staring at the display, seemingly horrified. And maybe it meant something to Hunk, but the colors and lines meant very little to Lance.

The sound of disgust that came from Apricoris’s mouth made Lance recoil. “ _Remove_ it? I will perform no such blasphemy, paladin. I took an oath to _save_ lives, not take them. And I will not allow such talk to come from a servant of our ancient allies. And it is _only_ Queen Nomira’s regard for our treaties that would keep me from calling for guards this very instant. The very _thought_! Do you know what removing a lily after a partial bond is formed would _do_ to you?” Apricoris threw his hands up into the air, and the vines wrapped around his arm writhed, as if alive. “Not only would it cause irreparable damage to your _fragile_ body, and _destroy_ your soul, but it would crush your mind. You cannot simply _dig out_ a bond as delicate as that between the heart-lily and a mind!”

“Please, Surgist,” Hunk said placatingly, although there was alarm in his voice, the title sitting oddly on his tongue. “We are not very familiar with your ways or beliefs. We don’t mean to offend. This is just--not something that humans are made to deal with. From what I’ve read, the Ixari don’t force the lily upon allies; you see it as a gift, to be accepted. This was not planned or asked for.”

Apricoris’s mouth twisted, and he gave Hunk a simmering glance. “It is not merely a _cultural desire_ that spurs me to refuse to remove the plant. Whether it is intended or not, the plant has begun to bond with its bearer. Blue paladin, your mind is irrevocably joined to the plant. Your body will be too, but the first thing the lily does it bind itself to the bearer. Alteans were known for their mental abilities--so too are the Ixari. So too is the Haixian heart-lily. So named because it entwines with the heart of the bearer. If I were to remove the plant, your body would fail, and the death of the flower would destroy your mind, _particularly_ if your race is not known for mental prowess like the Alteans, who at least stood a chance of surviving the severance. Did your _reading_ include the lists of those who perished, on attempting to remove their gift? Of the torture inflicted upon loved ones when they tried to flout Haixia? I see from your expression that it did not.” His brown eyes abruptly lost their angry glint, and he pressed a hand to his arm, hidden under his robes, the vines on his hand twisting. “I have the delicate task, now, of changing how your lily grows, so that it does not kill you or itself in the process of its growth, until you are fused as one. On a plant as weak as yours, and as--unguided--as the one you bear, this is critical.”

Lance was shaking his head in denial, but Apricoris met his gaze unflinchingly, and deep down, Lance knew that he was _right_. And now that he was here...he really had no choice. If he denied this--assuming the Ixari wouldn’t just force the procedure on him anyways--then his death, inevitable as Apricoris made it sound, would lay on _Shiro’s_ shoulders. And all of his teammates would also blame themselves. Not to mention that it could spell the end to Voltron, during a time where one mis-step, one lost battle, could mean death or capture of the paladins.

“I...understand,” Lance breathed, and saw the Ixari breathe out a sigh of relief. “What...choices do I have?” The words were spat out bitterly.

“Given the location of the roots, we have several options to reroute the plant...I suggest the back. Your organs are placed close enough that the front could pose real risk to your well being, and among Alteans, who have a similar organ-placement, a back-blooming plant was the most comfortable and least intrusive placement--”

\----------

While Allura spoke with Queen Nomira about a possible re-formation of the alliance between Altea and Haixia, and Lance and Hunk left with the Ixari doctor, Keith leaned against a pillar, trying to make himself invisible. He hated when Allura tried to be diplomatic with aliens, and hated it even more now that they were, more or less, entrusting Lance’s life to said aliens. He didn’t like the attention that he was getting from them either. Although Queen Nomira certainly didn’t have the busiest throne room, the guards and what he had to assume were nobles were staring openly at all of the paladins. Coran and Allura were probably used to such overt attention, but Keith was uncomfortable when it came to people paying attention to him. Usually it was never good, and he felt his hackles rising the longer the Ixari stared at him.

This entire situation...was terrible. Keith almost wished he would have volunteered to go with Lance and the alien doctor, despite the fact that it was both terribly obvious of him, and completely out of character for him to do so. After all, it made sense that Hunk should go with Lance. Lance would want the reassurance of his best friend.

‘ _It wasn’t Hunk there to get him out of those nightmares_ ,’ Keith couldn’t help thinking to himself. Self consciously, Keith clenched the hand that Lance had held. Waking up from where he had unintentionally fallen asleep to see that somehow, during his slumber, Lance had entwined their fingers and curled his body around it had been like a _gift_ , a rare precious moment of warmth. If Lance hadn’t looked so pale and fragile, Keith might have thought back on the moment fondly. But all it did was color his emotions a little more bitter; the only time that Keith was ever going to get with Lance would be their stupid rivalry, and moments stolen when Lance was too sick to be in his right mind.

And that was fine. Keith would rather Lance be better and hate his guts than see Lance suffer any more than he already had. Regardless of this stupid crush that Keith hadn’t managed to stomp out--a crush which--as time went on, and Keith had spent more and more time at Lance’s bedside, as if merely _wishing_ could make him better--only seemed to be growing.

Keith reached up under his visor and rubbed at his face, trying to force the thoughts away. It didn’t _matter_ what he felt. What mattered was Lance. At least now that they were here, things would be better... And yet Keith couldn’t relax. He still felt tense, like he did just before a battle, or just before something went wrong.

He hadn’t realized he’d been waiting for something to happen until it already did.

There was a distant shout, and the sound of running feet. Instantly all of Keith’s attention was on the hallway, and not the ongoing peace-talks. Ixari were running to and fro. Queen Nomira seemed to notice, and looked up sharply, her single golden eye fixing on the distance. She frowned deeply, and looked to Allura.

“There has been a complication with your blue paladin. We will continue these talks later. For now, I will arrange rooms for you and yours to stay in. Viola, please escort the Altean party to the medical wing, the Surgist is asking for them.” There was no explanation of how Nomira seemed to come into this knowledge, but at her words there was a small flurry of activity in the throne room, and a young purple-skinned Ixari girl appeared at Allura’s elbow.

“Yes, mother. Please follow me, Princess, paladins.” Viola’s brow creased as he led them, with increasing speed, in the same direction that Lance, Hunk, and the doctor had left in. “Haixia, he is in much pain. And your yellow paladin--he is also distraught. Please hurry.”

As they got closer, Keith became aware of a sound. It set his teeth on edge. It was screaming. He picked up speed before he could even think, darting past Viola. It was _Lance_ , screaming hoarsely, a sound that sent ice into his veins while simultaneously setting his mind on fire. Sprinting away from his teammates calling out his name, Keith honed in on the sound, and skidded to a stop to find Hunk on the ground outside of a closed door, hands clapped over his mouth and tears in his eyes.

“Keith?! D-don’t go in there man--” Hunk started, but Keith’s hand was already on the handle to the door, and he was inside of the room without even bothering to answer.

The scene that met his eyes was like something out of a nightmare. Lance was being held down on a table by two Ixari, blood streaming from his mouth, an entire stalk, complete with bloody flowers, hanging out of his lips. He was bucking, his blue eyes sharp with pain, and inhuman. The doctor Ixari was calling out instructions to the two holding down Lance, and was filling a syringe with something.

“--hold him down! The plant has woken, it’s trying to puncture his lungs, the pain is too much for him--he’s frightened, he--” The doctor turned towards Keith at the same moment that Lance’s teary eyes hit Keith. Lance shuddered, and all three of the Ixari let out noises of distress. Apricoris turned to Keith. “ _You_? We will talk later, for now, you need to calm him down! I need to sedate him.”

“I, but--how--”

“No questions, _do it_ He called to you, now _answer_.” Apricoris shoved Keith towards a blood-smeared Lance, whose screams had tapered off into whimpers, his blue eyes locked onto Keith as he sobbed. Like a slap, a rush of sickly, flowery scent swirled around Keith, and he felt divorced from himself as it washed his mind with fear and pain.

As if in a nightmare, Keith approached Lance, tears springing to his own eyes. He fell to his knees in front of the table Lance was being held down onto, locking eyes with Lance, and reached out, putting both of his hands on either side of Lance’s face. Hoarsely, words began spilling out of Keith’s mouth, broken words from a language Keith didn’t really remember. Comforting words that a part of Keith’s mind remembered being spoken to him once. Words that had calmed him when he was a child, despite their grating, harsh sounds. Lance’s ragged moaning and sobbing slowly calmed, and then abruptly his eyes rolled back in his head. Apricoris pulled the syringe away as Lance fell limply onto the table, and the two assisting Ixari instantly let go of him.

Keith stumbled back as the Ixari began to prepare for surgery, before he was noticed, and more or less politely shoved out of the room, and into the midst of the rest of the paladins and Allura, who were being caught up to speed by Viola.

“--we’ve had to begin emergency surgery. Surgist Apricoris is our best medic, and has treated three generations of the royal family, as well as being a master of surgery regarding the heart-lily. When you arrived, I am told the lily was in a state of dormancy. But now it has awoken, and was attacking it’s bearer’s body. What has to happen is that we need to reroute the stalks outside of Lance’s body, so that the plant’s growth will not damage either itself _or_ Lance. Once it is rerouted, Apricoris will remove the extra roots that have been causing so much distress to his body. While Lance is recovering, we will fill his body with the nutrients that the lily needs to fully recover from the chemical damage it has sustained.”

“He-he lost a lot of blood,” Hunk cut in, “Is it safe for him to undergo surgery right now?”

Viola’s golden eyes met Hunk’s levelly. “If we do not perform the surgery now, he will die. It is unfortunate that the lily awoke from dormancy before we could begin the surgery, but at least he is _here_ where he has a chance.” She shook her head, and sighed. “There is little you can do here and now. At the very least, allow me to bring you to your rooms, so that you may bathe and change and eat. I am in contact with the Surgist and his staff; I can keep you updated on the procedure as it happens.”

Most of her word’s didn’t really register to Keith, who was just now realizing that he had blood on his hands from where he grabbed Lance’s face, and whose mind was still reeling with shock, echoing Lance’s screams. He shivered, and stared down at his hands. It wasn’t until Shiro noticed Keith’s shell shocked silence and took in the blood and vacant gaze, gently steering the red paladin after Princess Viola and the rest of the group that Keith took in a shaky breath and came, more or less, back to himself.

Viola showed them to a lounge area, with a set of rooms off of it for each of them, each complete with a bathing room. She bid them wait, and then leveled her gaze onto Keith. “Red paladin. Wait. I am told that Apricoris wishes to speak to you after the surgery is done. It is important.”

With those cryptic words, Viola settled into a seat, gazing off in the direction of the medical wing, her mind--and mental powers?--clearly on the surgery going on. Team Voltron settled in to wait, unable to really focus on any real activity, talking uneasily amongst themselves. Keith excused himself to wash the blood from his hands and armor, and then joined the others.

Shiro was the only one who really understood how upset Keith was in this moment. The only one that knew that Keith cared more for Lance than he appeared to. Who knew the reason _why_ Keith had lingered at Lance’s bedside all those nights, why Keith occasionally had to tilt his head back, to keep tears from streaming down his face. Only Shiro, and perhaps Hunk, who also shot Keith searching glances from time to time, between his own fretting.

\----------

“The surgery is complete. Apricoris tells me that although it was difficult, and your paladin lost much blood, his vital signs have stabilized. The plant has been successfully rerouted, and he has been moved to a recovery room. As of yet, he has not awoken, and we will likely keep him on painkillers for a few days, lest the pain cause more damage to him.” Viola let out a sigh of relief, and smiled as everyone gave out a ragged cheer. It was about four vargas later, and everyone was strung out and tired.

“When will we be able to see him?” Pidge asked.

“It should be safe to visit your friend in the morning. For now, we should let him rest,” Viola assured her, and Pidge nodded.

The worst, it seemed, was over.

Then Viola turned to Keith, as everyone began to stand, heading to their rooms. “Red paladin, you still need to speak with Apricoris. Follow me, please?”

“Uh,” Keith said gracelessly, “Sure. Is this really...important?”

“It is.” Viola seemed content to speak few words, and instead led Keith out of the communal lounge area, and back towards the medical wing. “I will leave you in a viewing room, so that you can see your friend,” she decided, and in a few moments left Keith in a small anteroom, big enough only for a table and two chairs, off of a hospital room. _Lance’s_ hospital room, to be exact. Through a window--was it a two-way mirror?--Keith could see Lance, hooked up to several devices, and resting in a very comfortable-looking hovering bed. His skin was deathly pale, but his breath seemed fairly easy.

Keith pressed his hands to the glass, watching Lance, needing to assure himself that Lance was alright. He could still remember Lance’s hoarse cries, and how the blood had dripped from his mouth. Now Lance’s mouth showed no signs of blood, and his cheeks were no longer streaked with tears. He was _alive_. He would be okay. Keith repeated this to himself like a mantra.

He whirled around as the door to the anteroom opened, glowering, only to see Apricoris stepping inside, holding, _of all things_ a vase with flowers in it. It wasn’t until the green-skinned Ixari set the vase down on the table that Keith smelled that _damn scent_ , and noticed the pink tinge to the water inside of the vase.

“What...is _that_ for?” Keith asked in horror and disgust. “Are you telling me you _cut out_ those flowers, only to shove them in a _vase_ like you clipped them from your _garden_?”

Apricoris looked up, his expression unreadable. “Red paladin. Keith. I have brought these flowers to you for an important reason. I suppose you don’t know much about us or the heart-lily, given that you are an alien, but there is something that you need to know. Please, sit.”

Keith slumped into a chair, looking at the flowers. They were a gorgeous purple-red hue, with hints of yellow at the tip, like a sunset, and each petal was slightly different, making a hydrangea that could literally rival the setting sun on Earth. And they each had a cloying scent that his mind insisted belonged to _Lance_ , a scent that made his heart beat painfully and his stomach twist. Lance, who was in the next room, lying helplessly on a hospital bed, after a surgery. Lance, who Keith was not able to comfort. Anxiety rippled in his stomach, and Keith knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep--he would just pace his rooms after this stupid meeting.

Apricoris made a noise, as if Keith had said something that confirmed his suspicions. “I see. You do smell it. But...you do not understand. You feel...ah. How tragic. Red paladin, listen to me. The heart-lily is not a normal flower. It has a bond with its bearer, that affects it. Everything from the color of the blossom...to the scent.”

Keith’s eyes flicked up from the flowers, to meet the Ixari’s brown eyes. They had a depth of _knowing_ to them that made him uncomfortable. And the way he was speaking...did Apricoris know how he _felt_? Was he...reading his mind? “What do you mean?” he asked, instead of the questions in his mind. Then, “Wait, you know about the scent? What is it?!”

“The petals match the heart, red paladin. These _particular_ petals and that particular scent are from Lance himself. His heart yearns for you, and because of that, the flowers inside of him bloomed. Their perfume calls to you, to the feelings inside of you that you do not want to acknowledge.” He reached out and touched one of the petals, twisting it so that Keith could _really_ see it. “This is not the true color of his flowers. Only the color turned by his emotions. The flowers your friend makes are blue. They are red, not from his blood, but because that is how his mind colors _you_. I came here originally to warn you of this, but now that I am here, now that I can sense you, I see I need not have. You, too, care for the new bearer. Why do you not tell him this?”

Keith’s cheeks flared red as the Ixari spoke, the implication of his words landing on Keith’s disbelieving ears. Lance... _want_ him? Lance, who was always arguing with him, always complaining about him, always _competing_ with him? Who had barely been able to be in a room with him after--after _Keith_ had run away. After _Keith_ had been avoiding him. God how could he be so--so stupid? And so transparent? To the point where an _alien_ could see that Keith was in love with Lance, but apparently not even _Lance_ could tell?

Wait...in love? Was he in love with Lance? No, it was a crush. Wasn’t it?

“I thought he hated me,” Keith breathed, his voice low and raw with emotion. A-and then he got sick...” He trailed off, but his thoughts continued racing past the point where his throat would no longer form the words. Lance had been _sick_ , and that was probably why he had been acting so strange. And if...what this Ixari said was true...then maybe he had been trying to hide his feelings from _Keith_ just as much as Keith had been trying to hide _his_ feelings from Lance.

Apricoris sighed, but it was a fond, if tired, sigh. “He does not. If he did, you would not have his mate-scent in your nose right now. I came to warn you of its affects. On those without their own lily to temper the effects the perfume from a heart-lily’s mate-bond can be... _intense_. The empathy inherent to the lily can cause a variety of effects. So...when you talk to him, about this, make sure to be mindful of yourself. Strong emotions are strengthened by the perfume, and thoughts are hard to pull from a mate when under its effects.”

“Uh,” was all that Keith could muster in response to that.

“Take the flowers with you. They will assuage your anxiety at the separation. When Lance is recovered, you must speak to him about this. This is not a thing that will disappear overnight, and needs to be tended to. Remember, Keith. These flowers bloomed for you.”

Feeling rather like being dumbstruck was becoming a common occurrence for Keith, he found himself with the vase pressed into his disbelieving hands, as the Ixari gently steered him back towards the rooms that he would be sharing with the other paladins.

Hope was something that Keith hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time. And just like the crush, his feelings for Lance that he wasn't able to snuff out, this, too, was something that refused to be denied.

Keith fell asleep with the pleasant perfume of the heart-lily in his nose, mind thrumming with _Lance_ , even though Lance was not here. Coran was right.

The heart-lily’s scent was the most beautiful smell in the galaxy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this one was a long one. Believe me or not, I'm glad to have most of the angst behind me; apparently when I am stressed, the only thing I want to do is make Lance cry. A lot. And almost kill him. However, things have come to a head.
> 
> I've spent a lot of time coming up with the Ixari and how the flower interacts with their culture. That...didn't really come up much in this chapter, other than a few hints (show, don't tell, I have to keep telling myself) however, _Lance_ is going to need a crash course in How To Live Life With a Parasitic Flower 101. As well as have a very upfront and painfully honest talk about _feelings_
> 
> That's right folks, next chapter, these two idiots _finally_ talk about their feelings! There will be confessions, and communication, and maybe some smooches. And later, once Lance isn't recovering from a serious surgery...maybe some sexy times.
> 
> Technically this is the climax, but there's still a couple of chapters to go. I'm also considering making this a series, and adding in snapshots of the future and scenes as I get the inspiration for them.
> 
> Additionally, _big thanks_ to @Basilbones for [this excellent fanart](https://sunnpopp.tumblr.com/post/173722952222/fanart-for-this-awesomeeeee-fanfic-its-very-well). I'm so tickled to have fanart for this. It makes me so incredibly happy that everyone is enjoying this so much!!!


	7. A Bond Created

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance has recovered from surgery.
> 
> Keith steels himself to confront Lance about what he was told by the Surgist.
> 
> Talking happens.

When Lance awoke, mind heavy, thoughts slow and sluggish, it was with the sense that something wasn’t...right. He groaned, his medicine-heavy mind struggling to remember exactly _what_ was wrong. Had he...forgotten about something? He felt like he did. For a moment, Lance was unable to remember exactly where he was, or what he’d been doing before falling asleep. Had he...been drinking?

Lance wriggled to a sitting position, opening his eyes. Groggily, he surveyed the room he was in, eyeing the brightly colored walls suspiciously. Decorative pillars jutted out of the walls every few feet, completely encased in vines and flowers, small machines resting between them like the spaces were made just to store them. Maybe they were. It wasn’t until Lance looked down, his head feeling heavy, that he realized he wasn’t just in a bed. It had the distinctive look of a hospital bed, with railings on either side. This was further supported by the discovery that there was an IV in his arm, the tube a virulent green, and hooked up to the wall behind him. He was halfway through reaching up to grab it and remove it when the door to his room opened.

Inside stepped a beautiful pink-skinned woman, with eyes the color of the sky, and cornflower-colored daisies somehow woven into black hair. She saw his hand and tsked disapprovingly. It wasn’t until she got close that memory returned somewhat. This was an Ixari. She was an alien...and that should be important.

The Ixari, meanwhile, had removed his hand from where the IV was attached to his arm, and pulled a small penlight from a pocket, shining it into Lance’s eyes and then turning to look at the wall. Lance peered around her, only to see that the wall next to his bed had a screen embedded in it.

“Looks like you’re still feeling a little groggy, hmm blue paladin?” the Ixari said kindly, finally turning to look at him again. “Maybe the painkiller dosage was a little high, but I am told you’re a tough one. Do you hear me Lance?” She frowned at him, and Lance belatedly realized that he should respond. He nodded, and she smiled widely. He grinned sheepishly in return. “Excellent. Alright, I just need to check on your back, and then we can see about getting some food in you. Once you’re lucid, I’ll have you friends come over as well. They’ve been eager to see you, you know. Lean forward, please?”

Lance’s stomach grumbled at the mention of food, but his spirits lifted at the reminder of his friends. Memory was returning, slowly, and as Lance leaned forward obligingly, he tried to fit everything together, like one big puzzle piece. The air felt cold on his back as a flap in his shirt was lifted, and he shivered as the nurse Ixari traced her fingertips over his back, smearing a gel over it, which felt inhumanly cold. Either that, or his skin was just warm. Then she touched something that was sore, and he winced slightly. Then there was more touching, but it felt...wrong?

“W-what are you doing?” he found himself asking. Her hand pulled away, and he felt something pull away with her hand, before slowly returning to his back. It was a strange sensation--like feeling with a limb that wasn’t there. Except it was coming from his back.

“I’m just checking on your back,” the Ixari said, perhaps a bit nervously. “How much do you remember? You’ve been under quite a few pain medicines, and I can tell you’re a little confused. There’s no need to be scared. Any questions you have, we will answer. Or how about your friends? Do you want me to go grab your teammates first?” The nurse pulled way from him, and Lance straightened.

Lance paused, still trying to put everything together. He swallowed as he realized, finally, what it was that was ‘missing’. His breath was coming easier than it had in the past several weeks. He swallowed experimentally, and felt no pain. He cleared his throat, and other than a flare of pain in his back from the sharp motion, there was nothing. No pain. He could, dimly, remember having some sort of attack, before blacking out, accompanied by intense pain.

No...there was something else. Words, harsh, almost guttural, and yet somehow soothing. Shaking his head, Lance turned to look at the nurse. “Teammates first, beautiful,” he said, sliding back into a flirtatious manner without really thinking about it. It was almost a novel thing, feeling _normal_. He flashed a wink and two finger guns at the Ixari nurse, who chuckled, her cornflower daisies flushing a darker blue. “I might be so overwhelmed by your beauty that I’d forget to ask something important. Probably better to have my teammates here, so they can ask whatever questions I might forget to.”

Giggling, the Ixari nurse nodded. “Of course, blue paladin. I will retrieve some nourishment for you. Princess Viola and your teammates will be here shortly. Is liquid food alright, or would you prefer gelatin?” Her giggling was almost contagious--Lance felt the corner of his mouth quirk upwards, and could tell she was amused. Which was...nice. He felt nice. Also he was fairly sure his flirting usually didn’t come across so well.

The nurse left, and Lance had a moment to realize that he had forgotten to ask her name before settling back. There was a bit of discomfort in his back, so he shifted a little but, but once he wiggled a bit in his bed, there was no pain. He closed his eyes, keeping an ear out for the nurse’s return.

The next time the door opened, Lance was overwhelmed by a sudden weight slamming into his side. His eyes flew open--had he dozed off again?--to see Pidge clambering over the side of the bed, wrapping her arms around him, and Hunk leaning over to join in the hug, with Coran circling the other side to join the hug from the other side of the bed. Allura hovered nearby, looking overjoyed but obviously not wanting to add to the dogpile on Lance. Shiro stood at the foot of Lance’s bed, a wide smile of his face, looking obviously relieved, and Keith hovered awkwardly next to Shiro. Despite this, Lance could see a smile toying around Keith’s lips. It made him smile in return.

“Ahaha, jeez guys, I’d think you missed me or something from the way you’re acting,” Lance said, although he was feeling a little misty-eyed from the enthusiastic greeting, and wrapped his arms around Pidge--the smallest and closest--squeezing his eyes shut.

“Of course we missed you, dude! We were worried sick!” Hunk said, ruffling Lance’s hair. “I’m so happy that you’re feeling better though. The doc kept us updated on your status after the surgery, but its one thing to hear it, and another to see it. Y’know?”

Lance felt a tickle on his back and made a protesting noise, grabbing Pidge’s wrist. “Aaaah don’t touch--whatever you just touched.” He felt a weird shiver go up his spine, and Pidge retracted her hands from around him, signaling the end of the hug. Lance felt a moment of regret--the closeness and the warmth had been so _nice_ , almost like being wrapped in his friend’s love. “I must say, I didn’t want to come to Haixia to get this surgery, knowing what I did about the...possibility of keeping the plant. But I feel...pretty normal.”

“I’m glad, blue paladin,” said the nurse from earlier, walking in. She had a tray with a small plate and bowl, carefully setting it on Lance’s lap, gently shooing Pidge away from him so she could do so. “Now, Lance. I am sure that you have questions. Due to the...unfortunate event that led to the emergency surgery, there was little time for pre-surgical procedures, including information sharing. And you are not an Ixari, so you had very little prior knowledge about the surgery. My name is Alcea, and I am here to answer any questions you have, as well as to teach you the basics of how to care for your lily, now that the bond has been properly formed.”

Lance distracted himself by picking up a small square of what looked like gelatin. He squeezed it experimentally, and then popped it into his mouth. It was startlingly sweet, and he blinked, swallowing it easily after rolling it around his mouth for a moment. “I...gotta admit, I’m not really sure what questions _to_ ask. This is all...a bit overwhelming?”

Alcea nodded, and smiled. “Alright. Well, I was expecting that, somewhat. I will begin with some basic information for you then. Your rerouting surgery was successful. Creatures such as Alteans and Galra, who physically resemble you hu-mans,” she paused between the two syllables, as if unsure of the pronunciation, “Find back-oriented routes to be preferable. Although your lily rooted in your lungs, it was sufficiently high enough for us to create a bypass through the muscles and tissues to reach your spine. The lily’s systems merged with yours _unbelievably_ quickly then--I am told that is where most of your nervous system is centered on--and has begun normal sprouting. Now that the lily is no longer confined inside of your body, it’s growth will spread out from the sprout. On your back.” She clarified, seeing Lance’s confused expression.

Lance blinked. “So...the plant is...growing _outside_ of me now? I’m going to have leaves like you guys?”

A nod confirmed this, and Alcea continued, “Yes. There should be no more pain due to aggressive growth, and no more internal sprouting; just as a precaution we treated the surgery sites with a bio-synthetic material that will ensure that there will be no more blooms inside of important organs.” She smiled again, revealing her fangs, and Lance had the strangest urge to laugh at that, as if it were a rich joke.

“Hah...well that’s good. You mentioned...care? Do I have to do anything with it?” Lance reached behind his body self-consciously, as if he could stretch around and touch his back. His fingertips brushed only soft cloth, however--the hospital gown he was wearing had a flap in the back, but wasn’t open-backed. There was something though...a bump in the cloth. His reaching fingertips brushed over it, and he felt that same weird-shiver, and retracted his hand quickly.

“Nothing too special. Most notably, just make sure that you get enough sunlight. The lily is highly adaptable, and more than capable of providing itself and you with energy, but if there isn’t enough light, it will begin to drain your body for energy again. The drain won’t be as noticeable once it reaches maturity, but while it’s still growing I would advice at least an hour under natural light or a sunlamp. Proper hydration is also important.” Alcea counted off of her fingers, and made a noise as she hit the third finger. “Oh, of course. This step is optional, but you might find it necessary to encourage your plant into a specific shape, to make your armor easier to wear. There is going to be a main stalk, once the lily hits that stage. As long as you don’t cut that stalk, you should be able to safely prune anything, including the flowers, in case you want to save them. It will hurt a little, but should keep your overgrowth down.”

Lance froze a bit at that thought. And then he shook his head. “I’m not, uh, much for gardening,” he offered, and Alcea laughed too loudly, as if he had told a brilliant joke. After a moment of thought, Lance joined her. Not one for gardening! What was he thinking? He was a _walking_ garden now. Her laughter sent sparks of mirth through him. When Lance finally managed to stop laughing, his team had awkward smiles on their faces; obviously they didn’t get the joke. He’d have to explain it later.

Alcea outlined a few more things to keep in mind for lily-care, and then Lance felt the mood in the room shift noticeably tenser. Alcea was...nervous? She hid it well, but Lance could tell somehow--her smile was a bit _too_ forced as she continued. “Now, since you are the first hu-man to bear a heart-lily, we are not _entirely_ sure how the other properties of the plant will affect you. But we have some guesses. First, your species breathes oxygen; the lily, being in your lungs, will naturally augment your breath from the inside. The bio-synthetic film will hinder it somewhat, so you _will_ need to breathe still, unlike some Ixarites. But you should be able to hold your breath for a longer period of time; I’m sure that will come in useful for your paladin duties. Secondly...well, I think this is true, actually, but you may begin to notice the bond with your lily begin to connect with other things as well. I can already tell that you seem more... _receptive_ to certain Ixari abilities. More open. This could be the extent of your bond with the lily, or it might spread more.” She shrugged.

“What do you mean?” Lanced asked, but then lit up with excitement. “Wait you mean--mind powers? Like how you guys talk to each other silently? I _knew_ it!” He shot a smirk towards Coran, who was somewhat slack jawed at the prospect, sliding the smirk to a similarly impressed Hunk. Pidge seemed skeptical, as did Shiro. Keith’s face was unreadable, although it had a hint of...something on it.

With a laugh, she nodded. “Something like that. After all, can you not feel _this_?” She raised her hand as she said it, and everyone’s eyes flicked up to watch it. But as she did, Lance felt a surge of...something. It was like feeling a wind, but not...quite. Lance nodded dumbly, and she grinned, baring her fangs. “I have not seen you actively use your bond mindfully, so it could be that you are merely now able to sense these things. But...your bond is not fully formed yet either. Well. Either way. Do you have any more questions?”

Lance shook his head, and leaned back, listening as Pidge and Allura began asking Alcea questions. His mind whirled. He wasn’t sure how to feel about this...plant. Having it outside of him was certainly better than inside, that was sure. And he definitely was happy not to be dying, that was true. He could stay the blue paladin, stay a part of Voltron...stay with his friends. He stirred the liquid in the bowl idly with a finger, popping it into his mouth--apparently spoons did not exist on Haixia. A question occurred to him, and he waited for Alcea to finish a patient explanation of...something technical to Pidge.

“Alcea? How big will it get? The plant, I mean. Is there a...normal size?”

Alcea thought for a moment. “There is no ‘normal’ size I suppose. Its growth is mostly regulated by the nutrients you eat and how often you shape it. Your leaves will wilt when they get too big. And...when you, uh,” her skin grew a little rosier and her pale blue flowers darkened, “When you _bloom_ your flowers shouldn’t be more than fist-sized, maybe a little more. Given how _prolific_ you were on the inside, I have a feeling that you’re going to have a lot of them.”

Pidge narrowed her eyes at Alcea. “Why do I get the feeling that there’s an underlying meaning to that?” She pushed her glasses up and stared at Alcea. Looking at her, Lance realized she was...blushing? Her posture shifted slightly, and--yes, she was embarrassed.

“Well,” Alcea added, with forced nonchalance, “I suppose it might not work the same with humans, but Ixari and Ixarites’ heart-lily can show many things. To those that understand it, a glance at our lily is like a glance into our being. Our health, well-being, state of mind, even. And typically a healthy, fertile Ixarite will bloom. It is just...the way things are.”

“Oh. So flowers happen when an Ixari is at peak physical health? You might have a while to go before you get petals, Lance.” Pidge teased, poking Lance’s arm.

“Hey, I am in _peak performance_ thank you. There isn’t much better than this. And besides, I had blossoms _before_ this. _Duh_.” Lance made a show of stretching and flexing, ignoring the twinge of pain. Pidge merely stared on, unimpressed.

“Oh. I am not paid enough to have this discussion with aliens,” Alcea breathed, and pressed her hand to her face. All of the flowers weaved into her hair shifted and sunk into her hair, and her skin’s swirling marks glowed faintly. “I-I will make sure you have documents on this topic. Suffice to say, your lily will grow as it sees fit.” Her embarrassment was palpable, and she fiddled with a strand of hair, a tiny vine twined around it for a moment, before her head turned, facing the doorway. She straightened, and smiled back to everyone. “Well, I have duties to return to. Please, Lance, paladins, Princess Allura and Advisor Coran, if you have any questions regarding the lily, feel free to ask for me and I will answer all that I can. Lance, I will be back in a few vargas to bring you more nutrients. Please try to eat everything you have before then.”

Coran snickered as Alcea left rather quickly, but feigned innocence as everyone turned to look at him. “Oh, nothing, nothing. I just look forward to retrieving the documents she sends your way, as well as learning your reactions. But from my understanding of how this works, Lance is likely to have flowers year-round.”

“That...sounds like it could be nice,” Allura said encouragingly, shooting Lance a hesitant glance. He nodded with a frown.

“Well,” Shiro said, turning away from Keith--apparently the two of them having a whispered conversation, and not a pleasant one from Keth’s expression. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but we should let Lance rest. Not to mention that we still have an alliance to finalize.” Lance whined, and shook his head.

“Noooo,” he pleaded with Shiro, trying on his best puppy-dog eyes.

“Aw, man, but we just got to see him,” Hunk whined, with Pidge joining in. Shiro sighed, and looked from them to Lance. To be fair, Lance was feeling a little tired but the thought of sitting in this room by himself was less than appealing.

“I think the treaty can wait a little while,” Keith said, bumping a shoulder into Shiro’s arm. Shiro blinked, but then smiled, and ruffled Keith’s hair. “Not to mention, Lance is probably sick of being sick. Why don’t we bring those weird alien board games in and make a night of it?”

“Yeah! And we can bring some drinks, and maybe get some music playing! It’ll be a celebration!” Hunk added, smacking Keith on the back firmly, who looked shocked at the impact. “God, Lance, you’ll love it. There’s one with a _literal_ tree growing out of the board. And you like, water it, and it grows until it pops! It’s crazy...”

\----------

Keith was nervous. He had a hard time keeping his attention on the board games that Hunk and Pidge scrambled to get, and a harder time keeping track of the alien rules and such. Despite the boisterous celebrations going on, Keith found his mind constantly returning to what he had been told, what he had been thinking about. What he knew he had to do. But for now...now he should appreciate the fact that Lance was okay. That he was here, and alive.

And oh, how _alive_ Lance looked right now. His skin had regained most of its color, and although he still looked a little paler, he no longer had a sunken translucent feel to him. Nor did he seem like he would break at any moment, like he had when he was asleep. Instead, his brilliant, ocean-blue eyes were alight with the same joy that the team felt at his recovery, his smile bright and shining again. It was a smile that Keith hadn’t realized that he had missed so much until he saw it now, spreading so freely across Lance’s face.

His attention was grabbed by Pidge as she pressed the dice into his hand and began, for the third time, explaining how to take his convoluted turn. Keith fumbled through the instructions, distracted, and couldn’t help but glance back to Lance after he had finished. A bemused smile had crept onto Lance’s face as Hunk jeered at his friend, bragging of his imminent victory. Lance’s hair had grown slightly over the past month, and Keith found his eyes snagging on a little brown curl that kept finding it’s way back into Lance’s face. There was a very strong urge to reach out and tuck it away lingering in Keith’s mind.

Of course, this entire time, that... _scent_ had been present. The Surgist’s warnings seemed to be warranted. Keith found it hard to reign his wandering thoughts away from Lance, and keep his mind on the board games, on the future, on anything but the teen sitting far enough away to make something in Keith disgruntled at the distance, and yet so close that the floral, pleasant smell that seemed to just _rise_ from his skin could float over to Keith. At this point, Keith was fairly certain that nothing about this could be defined as a _crush_. Oh no, his previous attractions to boys--always fleeting, never acted upon--paled in comparison to this. Keith’s very skin itched with the desire--no, the _need_ \--to comfort Lance every time the smile faded away.

Shiro’s suspicious eyes flickered to Keith often. Shiro knew enough from Keith’s previous breakdown that Keith had a crush on Lance. And was still operating under the assumption that his feelings had been rejected. Knowing what he knew now, Keith found himself impatient for the time when the celebrations would end, and he could talk to Lance about it. Strange, how eager he was for it, and yet so _frightened_. Cautious hope was still tempered by pessimistic thoughts. He wasn’t--or at least tried not to be--in the habit of trusting strange aliens over his own cautious nature. Keith shot Shiro a reassuring hand wave, although the black paladin looked less than convinced.

The night seemed to drag, the soft alien music in the background lulling everyone into feeling relaxed, the board games complicated enough to keep their attention, but strangely fun to play. But mostly the easy, companionable air between the paladins that had been _missing_ this whole time was back. Lance shot out jokes like well timed shots, even wringing a few laughs out of Keith. Hunk and Pidge were clingy and a little over-bearing in their relief, a little teary at time, but eventually settled back into their old easy banter, switching between trying to shock Shiro--”Pidge, how did you even _learn_ such filthy language?!”--and retelling old stories from the Garrison that made them laugh until Hunk was holding his sides and Lance’s eyes were squeezed closed, and Pidge’s mischievous grin was wider than humanly possible on her face. Shiro seemed torn between wanting to join in and wanting to disapprove, and even Keith’s retelling of a few run-ins before he had been kicked out had been greeted with peals of laughter.

But like all good things, it had to end, and did so right as Keith had finally managed to really set aside the thoughts he had been worrying all night. Alcea re-entered the room with her alien grace, smiling and fondly shooing everyone out of Lance’s hospital room as she settled a new tray of food in front of Lance and took the empty one from earlier away, checking on his vitals as team Voltron tidied up the board games, snacks, and other oddments that had found their way into Lance’s room.

Keith fidgeted, going from foot to foot for a moment before taking a deep breath. He had already told Shiro--in quick whispers--his intention to talk to Lance. He had been vague, but Keith was fairly certain that Shiro had put two and two together quick enough. So he shot Shiro a glance feeling his expression settle somewhere between ‘determined’ and ‘nervous’, and pressed his back up against one of the vine-covered pillars, watching as everyone filtered out. Alcea shot Keith a knowing glance as she saw him remaining, which, of course, drew Lance’s attention to Keith. Keith nodded to the Ixari, and looked up at the ceiling, counting to ten, and then again, as she finished up.

Finally, Alcea left the room, closing the door behind her with a soft noise, and Keith removed his gaze from the metal tiles above. Nervousness was not something that Keith typically felt--it made him feel clumsy where usually he was confident. But never before had Keith backed away from anything--not from a fight, not from a challenge, and not even from a very high chance of failure. This was none of those things--although the sudden pounding of his heart tried its best to convince him that he was, indeed, in a fight, and in _very great need_ of adrenaline suddenly. But _damn_ if he was going to give in, or back off.

So Keith took a breath, and fixed his gaze onto Lance. Dark brows were twisted in a confused expression, ocean-eyes squinting towards Keith in an almost suspicious manner. Keith couldn’t help but notice Lance’s posture had tightened, his shoulder raised, his hands fiddling with the blanket over his lap. Lance tried a smile, but it lacked the natural ease of before.

“Hey, Keith. See you’re still hanging around. You forget something in here, or something?”

“No. Lance, I need to talk to you. It’s...important.” Keith took a few steps forward, until he was at the foot of Lance’s bed, instead of merely across from it, leaning against the wall. With each step he took closer, the room seemed to shrink, until reality consisted only of the little bubble of space around them: Lance leaning back in bed, as if Keith’s approach were an attack, his expression sliding into uncomfortable.

“That--maybe this isn’t the best time?” Lance deflected.

“I don’t think it can wait. I...was told something by one of the medics here. Something that I need to hear from you before I’ll believe it.” Keith saw several emotions chase themselves through Lance’s eyes--confusion, fear, guilt--but he continued on, the words rushing from his mouth in a single breath, charging forward recklessly like he always does, despite the blush that is working it’s way up onto his face. “Lance. Do you have feelings for me?”

Lance’s face flushed red, and his eyes darted away instantly, his back straightening. The blanket was clutched in Lance’s hands. “D-dude what? Where are you even coming from with this? Like, I know the Ixari are crazy mind-readers but this is a bit of a stretch, even for them. Is this like a joke? That’s c-crazy,” Lance babbled, his words speeding up and octave raising to an almost shrill denial.

Keith’s eyes narrowed, feeling a flare of irritation, eyes darting to the bead of sweat that rolled down Lance’s cheek, his cheek that was burning red, the clenched hands, the tight stance, and then breathed out. Everything about Lance was screaming ‘yes’, aside from his voice. Or so it seemed to Keith. But still, he didn’t trust it. “Lance,” he growled, taking another step closer, and another, coming to the side of the bed. “Stop dodging the question. Do you...like me?” his voice faltered somewhat on the question--what a juvenile way to put it. But his heart was pounding and the air was sweet, and despite the irritation, hope was soaring up in his head, blunting his thoughts. “I need to hear it from you. Not an alien, not a guess or a hunch.”

Lance’s eyes raised, and Keith saw them glisten. Lance’s tan skin was burning with heat and blood, but the vulnerable expression shifted, twisting into an angry one. Keith jerked back, surprised, as suddenly Lance was leaning forward, face very close to him. His voice was harsh. “Oh, I see how it is. Wow, Keith, I knew you were a jerk but I didn’t take you for cruel! Yes! I have a crush on you! I’m gay, or bi or whatever! Happy now?! You can make as much fun of me as you want. I’m just surprised that you waited until I wasn’t _dying_ to be an asshole about it!” Lance flung his hands in the air, and Keith flinched back from them. Lance couldn’t hold back a sob, and a tear rolled down his face as he slumped backwards, all the anger shifting towards shame.

“Lance, no, you’re--” Keith started, and then shook his head, fists clenching at his sides, surging forward. “You’re a fucking idiot and you’re _wrong_. I’m not asking to _make fun of you_ , I’m asking because I--me too.” His anger deflated as Lance’s teary eyes widened and rolled to meet Keith’s, disbelief coloring his face. “M-me too. About you. I like you. I’ve liked you for...a really long time now. I just thought you--you always argued with me and made such a scene about me being your rival. I thought you hated me.”

Keith reached out, his hand shaking, as Lance continued to stare at him--unbelieving, or perhaps not allowing himself to believe, although the blush on his cheeks was as dark as Keith’s--and gently brushed away one of the tears on Lance’s cheek. Lance flinched slightly, but continued to stare, eyes darting up to Keith’s, and Keith allowed himself to stare back, gazing into those ocean blue eyes as they deepened, confusion slowly giving way to something bright and unfamiliar which made his breath catch in his throat.

“You--you really mean it,” Lance breathed, and one hand settled over where Keith’s hand was still on his face, lightly, as if he expected Keith to jerk away. Keith nodded, and an incredulous smile started to stretch over Lance’s face. “I--I thought you knew. Already. That you had seen. That night in the kitchen--you ran away and I thought, ‘ _oh shit, he knows and he’s so disgusted he ran away_ ’. God, I’ve never been happier to be wrong. I _am_ an idiot, huh..?” Lance leaned forward, and Keith found himself drawing closer as well, until their foreheads touched, his free hand gently cupping the other side of Lance’s face, a shiver sliding up Keith’s spine as their breath mingled. “Why?”

That question could be for a lot of things, Keith supposed. Why now, why did Keith love him, why did Keith run away that night...Keith felt his eyes sliding half closed, losing himself in Lance’s gaze. “Why what?” he breathed. His thoughts fizzled slightly, popping like sparks.

Lance breathed out a laugh, soft and ephemeral, but his eyes were wide, darting over Keith’s face. He pulled back, and Keith mourned the lack of his closeness instantly, only to blink as Lance wiggled over in the floating bed, and patted the empty space next to him almost sheepishly. “Come sit with me. And...why now? You said one of the doctors said something?” Lance’s sheepish smile grew into a larger one as Keith settled into the space next to him, their legs pressing together. Keith carefully moved so that their shoulders touched, and felt an immense satisfaction at the contact.

“Uh,” Keith managed, most of his attention still on where he could feel Lance’s warmth, even through his clothes. “The Surgist had something to tell me about a certain... _aspect_ of the lily that he suspected was affecting me. It was.” Keith gave in to his earlier impulse and brushed the little curl of brown hair out of Lance’s eyes, nervously watching for Lance’s reaction.

Lance leaned into the touch, a sweet expression crossing his face--something that made Keith’s chest warm, and a smile flit to his lips. Lance kept his eyes closed as he said, “And what was that? You’re making me a little nervous.”

“Well. It’s a...scent. A perfume that your lily gives off--gave off. I could smell it on you probably since it bloomed. I only noticed it that...night in the kitchen. Apricoris said it was some sort of...well, he said that the only reason that _I_ could smell it was because you were trying to attract me. He called it a...” Keith paused, glancing up at Lance to gauge his reaction, “Called it a mate-scent.”

“Oh. _Oh_.” Lance’s eyes widened somewhat, and Keith watched him breathe in a long breath. “I-is that what that is? That’s--”

“It smells nice,” Keith found himself saying, leaning close, his voice lowering. Lance went rigid as Keith’s nose traced against his cheek, and Keith was finding it hard to think. He knew, somewhere in his mind, that he shouldn’t be so forward so quickly. But with Lance here, his dizzy thoughts insisted that this was the perfect time and place. Keith’s eyes lingered on Lance’s lips...they looked so soft, and Lance was worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. Keith had to close his eyes and pull back quickly to try and banish the image. He failed, but he did put a hand over his face, trying to cool the burning in his cheeks. “Sorry. Apricoris told me that it might...make it hard to think but...it’s hard for me to not act on impulses right now.”

Lance had a hand on his chest, steadying his uneven breathing, but paused at that. “It...affects you?” Lance swallowed audibly.

“I don’t know how much of it is the plant and how much is _me_ ,” Keith admitted, breathing out slowly, but finding his eyes drawn to Lance once again. “But I have a hard time ignoring you. I want to...touch you all the time.” He jiggled the leg pressed flush against Lance’s to remind him of it. “And I’m usually better at...not acting on impulses. I just want to be close to you right now.”

‘ _And to kiss you. And touch you. I think the only thing keeping me from running my hands all over you is the fact that you’re still recovering from surgery._ ’ Keith’s face flushed warmer, and he repressed a groan. These thoughts were unwelcome right now.

While Keith’s eyes were closed, Lance shifted closer, and then, somewhat to Keith’s surprise, he found himself with an armful of Lance. Lance was smiling up at him softly, but slyly, and said, “Then what’s stopping you? We both...like each other, right? Then there’s no reason not to. After all, access to my sweet cuddling skills is a perk of having me as a boyfriend.”

A burst of happiness filtered through Keith, and he shifted to a more comfortable position, holding Lance to his chest, feeling like the sun was shooting out of his core and through his entire being. A hand found its way to Lance’s hair, and he carded his fingers through it, relishing the softness against his palm--a hundred million times better than he ever would have dreamed. This softness, the closeness, the warmth of Lance against him--new, and still sending little shocks of happiness and awareness through him, but oh-so-sweet and very much wanted. Better because this was _real_. Real Lance who wrapped one of his arms tentatively around Keith’s waist, and tucked the other against his chest, cuddling up against him.

“ _Boyfriend_ , huh? I think I like that.” Keith laughed, and Lance laughed too, and the two of them stayed like that, cuddled close and quietly talking well into the night, until Lance fell asleep in Keith’s arms. And Keith, feeling pleased beyond all accounting, pressed a small kiss to the top of Lance’s head, and closed his eyes as well. He would get up, he told himself, just...not this moment. It felt safe, and warm, and so much more comfortable here, with Lance in his arms, than the prospect of his bed in the wing that the paladins were staying in.

\----------

When Lance woke up, he was confused for a moment, sleep clinging to his thoughts like warm, golden cobwebs. He was warm, and comfortable, and it wasn’t until he shifted and became aware of the arm thrown over his body that his eyes opened. All he could see was black cloth, and further up, a curl of long black hair on pale skin. His heart froze for a moment, as he realized it wasn’t just an arm--he could feel Keith’s warm body pressed up against him--Keith’s body was curled around his, their legs entwined, and Lance had somehow turned into the embrace, his own hand wrapped around Keith’s waist, trapped between his body and his shirt, skin warm against his palm.

His heart pounded, and once again Lance found it hard to _process_. When Keith had stayed after everyone else left, he had been confused, and then frightened, and then _mad_ , but then oh-so-gloriously happy. Despite their differences, Lance’s opinion of Keith was high, and he hadn’t had much time to nurse his broken heart what with the flower-emergency. So to wake up, and realize that, no, last night _wasn’t_ a dream, that, _yes_ Keith had confessed to him, that _he_ had confessed to Keith...it felt unreal. Waking up in Keith’s arms was like the final hit of a hammerhead onto a nail, and Lance pressed his face into Keith’s shirt, grinning madly.

Keith made a sleepy noise of protest as Lance tightened his grip, and Lance wiggled until he could see Keith’s face, the nose scrunched up cutely from the movements disturbing his sleep. Lance felt happiness bubbling through him, and extricated his arm from Keith’s shirt, and lifting Keith’s strangely heavy arm off of him, crawling up to press a kiss to Keith’s cheek. “Good morning,” he murmured, feeling Keith tense and watching him startle awake, and feeling a flush of warmth as the red paladin visibly relaxed. God he was going to _die_ if he had to see cute sleepy Keith every morning.“Sleep alright?”

“Mmn, I could have slept longer. You’re _warm_ ,” Keith murmured re-wrapping his arms around Lance’s waist as Lance sat up, and then blinked, looking around him with a sheepish grin. “I-I meant to slip out after you fell asleep.”

“What? And rob me of the chance to wake up to cuddles?! Worst boyfriend ever,” Lance said in mock offense, although at the word ‘boyfriend’ his mouth stretched into a wide grin. Keith’s gaze caught his, and an answering smile, more tentative, bloomed there. This was a whole new side to Keith. Of course, before this whole mess Lance had seen Keith start to open up somewhat. Seen him crack a few jokes, seen him visibly relax around the others. But it was still with a caution to it, wariness like an old alley cat who had been kicked too many times. Here, still blinking sleep from his eyes, with his eyes shining with a shy sort of light that Lance had never seen before, cheeks flushed and a smile painted hesitantly on his lips, Lance felt like he was the _luckiest_ guy in space. After all, his boyfriend was _incredibly_ cute, and could probably also mop the floor with Lance.

“More like, keep the drama to a minimum from the scene that Shiro’s going to make when he wakes up and finds out I never came back to my room,” Keith murmured, and buried his face in Lance’s shirt, his hands idly stroking Lance’s back, the dual motions making Lance’s breath hitch. Keith’s mere presence was like some sort of bubbly champagne, sunshine bright and washing everything with a soft warmth. Then Keith pulled back, frowning, and Lance felt that weird _touching-not-touching_ sensation on his back through the shirt, sending a shiver up and down his spine. “What’s this? Oh...”

Keith sat up and Lance looked at him anxiously. He already _knew_ what it was, although it was still hard for Lance to come to terms with it. Especially since it was growing out of his back. Keith’s eyes--the captivating violet shade very visible in this low light--were half-closed in concentration as Lance felt Keith map out his back with his hand, drawing fingertips over the thin cloth of the hospital gown to trace out the plant.

“Keith, stop,” Lance said, his voice a little breathy. Keith’s eyes refocused on reality, and his hand froze. Keith’s eyes took in Lance’s expression, his warm cheeks, and before Lance could really act upon the embarrassment and _shame_ that he felt about the plant, Keith was pulling him into a hug, carefully not touching the parts of his back where the plant had evidently begun to spread to. Lance shuddered, and tried to push thoughts of the plant out of his mind for a moment, although he felt uneasy just the same. Would Keith still want him if he had some weird alien plant growing out of him? The Ixari were certainly something to look at, but their plant-growths were...unsettling, to say the least. “I-I know its weird. You don’t have to like, touch it.”

“Oh, Lance, no. It’s a part of you now, and I don’t think anything about you is _weird_.” Keith’s eyes were earnest, and Lance was touched by those words--the blunt earnestness that the red paladin said when he uttered them smoothed the pain in his heart. Keith smiled unexpectedly, and added, “Besides, I’ve never seen odd bits deter you from flirting with aliens ever. Why should I let it stop me? You’re pretty much half-alien now.” Keith’s hands crept back over Lance’s back, and Lance felt the touch along the plant bits as intimately as he had felt the fingertips on his skin through the shirt. Keith’s questing fingers found the odd flap in the back of the hospital gown. Keith’s gaze remained unwavering on Lance as his fingertips slipped past the flap, and Lance _shivered_ as they touched first bare skin, and then slid across the plant.

And, _oh_ , that probably shouldn’t feel like how it did. Lance’s cheeks started to grow warm, as Keith’s light touches trailed across vines, to the central portion of the plant. Gentle hands stroked both the skin around the plant, and the stalk itself, which seemed to have seamlessly fused together, and Lance felt a twinge of pleasure shoot through him, as if there was a thin thread connected to both the plant, and his groin. A small gasp slid out of his mouth, and Keith froze, his hand jumping way as if burned, and Lance felt one of the vine tendrils on his back _move_.

“ _Shit_ , did that hurt?” Keith looked up at Lance, eyes flickering to Lance’s flushed cheeks and stricken expression. Lance could practically feel Keith’s worry, in the way that his eyebrows quirked down and he took his lower lip between his teeth. But Lance’s skin felt sensitive and tingly, warm from Keith’s touch, and twinging with the sudden lack of what had felt so _right_. And Lance could tell that Keith wanted to touch him as much as Lance did, something about the way his eyes darkened slightly, about how Keith bit his lip slightly more, how Keith’s hand tightened on where it rested on Lance’s leg and...

“No, it didn’t hurt,” Lance breathed, still trying to process this sudden understanding of Keith. How had he thought that Keith was hard to read before. Maybe it was because Keith didn’t guard himself as much when they were alone, or maybe it was just because Lance was close enough to see the flashes of emotion rip through Keith’s stormy eyes like lightning, gone just as quick as they appeared. Or maybe... Lance’s eyes widened, and he saw Keith’s confusion and alarm briefly. Or maybe _saw_ was the wrong word... “Keith--I think that, somehow--okay you aren’t going to believe this. Or maybe you won’t like it. But I think I’m able to get some sort of _read_ off of you!”

Lance focused on Keith, and while he certainly saw the tiny changes in expression and stance--Keith straightening, his head tilting somewhat to the side, the infinitesimal crease that formed, the way his lips parted ever so slightly--he realized that these were merely underlined to him. He didn’t need to see the confusion in Keith to know it was there. Excitement lifted in Lance, and he started grinning, as Keith processed his words. “A read? Like...?”

“Yeah! Like maybe those books weren’t wrong! Keith I think I’m getting super mind powers!” Lance grabbed Keith’s hands, and bounced giddily, a stupid smile on his face. “Holy crow, I don’t know if the universe is just trying to make it up to me or something--first I got a _boyfriend_ and now I got _superpowers_...!”

“What was that about super...oh, uh--” Lance whipped around, still smiling giddily as Shiro stepped into the room, closing the door behind him silently. Shiro’s face was carefully neutral, although one eyebrow was rising as he took in Lance’s bright, happy smile, Keith sitting close to Lance--on the bed, no less--and his hands, held in Lance’s excited clutches. A small smile spread on his face as he looked pointedly at the blushing Keith. Then Shiro laughed, a warm chuckle. “Heh. Well. I was going to ask if you’d seen Keith, but I see you’ve found our wayward paladin. What was that about superpowers, Lance?”

Lance looked down to where he held Keith’s hands, and then to Keith, whose happiness was mingled with embarrassment and chagrin. At Lance’s look, both eyebrows raised, Keith shrugged, and the blue paladin instantly announced, “Keith and I are dating now!” As Shiro merely nodded, Lance frowned, and lifted their hands in the air. “Dating. Me and Keith. Damnit Shiro, stop looking so _all knowing_ , at least _pretend_ to be surprised!” Exasperated, Lance flung a hand into the air dramatically, and then sighed. “And yes, superpowers! I think I can feel Keith’s emotions. I think maybe...” Lance stared very hard at Shiro, and concentrated. It was a bit like trying to pilot a strange ship, in the dark, with only instinct to guide him. Lance felt a hint of... _something_? But then it was lost, like a thread snapping, and he shook his head.

“Nothing? Well, it’s good that you think you feel something, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up too much,” Shiro said. Lance frowned, and _felt_ , not saw, the apprehension in the bigger man. Shiro’s face was well trained, and gave away nothing but the usual calm smile. But Lance could feel whispers of emotions--well controlled, but present.

“No, I feel it. You’re worried about something. You’re really faint--not like Keith. And its _different_ with you, Shiro. With you,” he said, turning to smile at Keith, “It was like I could read the meaning in your little expression changes and body language. Like being _super good_ at seeing your tells. But with you, Shiro...you hardly show any emotions, so I guess its like, the vaguest of feeling. It’s weird. And _hey_! You’re more surprised about this than you were about me and Keith dating! What the _heck_ Shiro!”

Lance grabbed the nearest pillow and chucked it at Shiro, who smoothly dodged, laughter pouring out of his mouth as Keith, smiling, handed Lance the other pillow. Shiro laughed and rushed out of the window, chased by the second pillow. Lance and Keith looked at each other, and fell backwards onto the bed, laughing.

\----------

Lance stood in front of the mirrors, looking at the plant with a mixture of feelings, his under-armor suit only partially pulled up. It had been a few more days since the surgery, and whatever healing science the Ixari had had made sure that he healed without any scars. In fact, although he reached back and--somewhat painfully, because arms weren’t supposed to bend that way--shifted the leaves and vines out of the way, he couldn’t see where his skin stopped and the stalk started, the skin somehow grafted smoothly onto the plant as if he had been born that way.

Objectively, he didn’t look too bad. The actual lily had taken to spreading out against his back almost like a second layer of clothing, with a burst of leaves around the stalk, and then several tendrils that swirled up his back, more or less following the line of his spine, sprouts of bright blue flowers and bursts of leaves decorating each vine every few inches. Two particularly large buds on his shoulders promised to bloom into larger blossoms, and all in all he had the feeling that he would look...pretty okay once everything had finished growing. The vines swirled and curled along his skin like some crazy elf’s fantasy gear, though it _did_ accentuate the smooth muscles of his back. There were even two tiny tendrils that curled around his hips, tucked snugly into his waist, with little flower blossoms speckling the length of the vines and a few leaves here and there.

The Ixari doctors had approved him for leaving the medical ward today, and after a final meeting with the Queen, Allura wanted the paladins gone--they had stayed too long already, and without knowing what Zarkon was tracking them with, they might inadvertently bring more trouble to Haixia than even the Ixari could handle, with or without Voltron’s help. Lance wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or pleased when Apricoris had told him that it was unlikely that Lance would develop the swirling, luminescent markings that the Ixari and some of the Ixarites--other races that had accepted the lily into their bodies--had.

Lance sighed and slipped into the suit, feeling his tendrils curl closer to his body as he fastened it closed. It was strange. He hadn’t yet gotten much control over the plants. Some of the Ixari could move their lily like extra arms, and Lance had been told that since the lily had fused with his spine, he very likely would gain such control as well. So far all he could do was unconsciously control them--when he had to think about it, nothing happened, but when he needed to tuck them close to put on clothes or squeeze through a tight spot, it just sort of...happened. He hardly noticed the difference when he slid his armor on over the under-suit, save for the slightly flattened leaves peeking out over the black neck of his suit, sort of like helmet-hair. With his paladin helmet on, he looked the same as he had before. The lean, strong figure of the blue paladin stared back at him, and Lance breathed in quickly, before stepping out.

Just one political meeting with the queen of these aliens, and then it was back to saving the universe. Thing would go back to normal. ‘ _Well, not all things_ ,’ Lance thought to himself, as Keith met him in the hallway. Shyly, Keith brushed his fingers on Lance’s hand, and Lance happily entwined their fingers together, whistling happily and swinging their combined hands as they approached the throne room. Keith scoffed at the gesture, but Lane could see the tiny smile that blessed Keith’s lips for a moment, as well as feel the little brush of happiness from his boyfriend.

Once they reached the throne room, Keith withdrew his hand, and Lance let it go with minimal reluctance. Aside from Shiro, no one really knew about their relationship. Lance wanted to shout it from the top of his lungs, but he respected Keith’s desire to keep it on the down-low. Lance knew that they wouldn’t be able to really keep it quiet for long, anyways, and was hoping he could convince Keith to do some sort of Big Reveal with him. Or maybe just one day slip it into casual conversation. So far the answer had been ‘no’, but Lance had high hopes.

Queen Nomira was just as strangely beautiful and intimidating as before, expect now Lance could feel something like an aura emanating from her. It was subtle to his new ability, but the instant that he stepped into the room he _felt_ her. Her single golden eye turned to him, and she smiled at him, inclining her head as he felt her presence ripple slightly. The other Ixari in the room also turned to Lance, and, as one, bowed, rising in a smooth motion.

“Queen Nomira,” Allura said, giving a small bow to the regal Ixari, “We are here to receive your final decision. Will the Ixari and all of Haixia stand with Voltron against the Galra Empire, and once more rekindle the alliance between Altea and Haixia?” Her voice was smooth, her blue-pink crystalline eyes sparkling with her determination, and Lance could feel her emotions press against him briefly--the roiling wave of determination, pride, anger, grief, tightly controlled, like a storm inside of a glass box.

“Princess Allura. I am glad that we managed to make contact once again with our ancient ally of Altea. Although your Altea has been destroyed, as have many planets by the cruel Galra, Altea’s people survives, and Voltron is a powerful legacy of Altea. We of Haixia have decided to join ourselves with you and your allies. Since the Blue Paladin is now an Ixarite, one of my people, we are tied deeper than a mere alliance.” Queen Nomira spread her hands, and Lance blinked. He supposed...she was right. Although he wasn’t an Ixari, he now had their sacred plant inside of him. “Bearer Lance, if you ever are in need of aid, Haixia is now your home, and we are yours, as you are ours. I hope one day, when peace reigns once more, that you will be able to spend some time with us, and have us aid you in cultivating your mind and soul, as well as your body.”

“Uh, s-sure. I’d like that, Your Highness,” Lance managed, after someone--probably Shiro--elbowed him in the ribs.

Allura, too, seemed surprised by this statement, but took it with her usual good grace. With only a small amount of fanfare and ceremony, the formal alliance was drafted up and witnessed, the agreement being sent to the castle-ship, as well as stored physically here on Haixia. Then they were off.

The planet Haixia, Lance thought, really did resemble Earth from space. He stood on the bridge, watching the planet recede as Allura steered the ship away, preparing to wormhole away. It should have felt like leaving Earth behind a second time, to Lance, but he felt no regret, and only the briefest pang of homesickness, and even that disappeared as Keith stepped to Lance’s side, bumping his shoulder into Lance’s.

Yes. It should have felt like _leaving_ home. But Lance felt like he was home right here. It didn’t feel like an end. It felt like a beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow.
> 
> This chapter was one of the hardest for me to write, just because I kept agonizing over _the confession scene_. THIS is the scene that inspired me to write the entire fic.
> 
> This more or less wraps up the conflict of 'oh gosh will Lance die', but we still have a couple chapters to go. I definitely want to have their first kiss, and their first few sexual encounters. (I mean, duh why else the smut tag). In fact, I actually ended up keeping the smut until the end, just because I wanted the relationship to flow better.
> 
> There are certainly _perks_ to dating an alien-hybrid with light empathic abilities and a plant that essentially telegraphs when they're horny. That scenario will CERTAINLY be an entire chapter by itself. I'm also open to if _you guys_ have any sort of snippet or snapshot you want to see of Flowerboy-Lance and Keith.


	8. Stars in Your Eyes

The first couple of days after leaving the whole debacle of the plant and Haixia behind were the hardest for Lance. The information from the Ixari on proper plant care had been both logged onto the computer’s database and uploaded onto a datapad for Lance. A datapad which had remained unread for now, thrown onto his desk carelessly. He could read up about it later, but for now he was _so tired_ of thinking about it. He didn’t really want to do _anything_ , feeling strangely keyed up and nervous. He felt like he had too much on his mind, and the thought of leaving the safe haven of his room was almost too much to bear. So he’d been hiding in his room instead for two days, and he was quickly running out of things to do. So far, aside from a single meeting with Shiro-- _not_ who Lance had been expecting knocking on his door the night they got back, to be honest--Lance had been left alone. On the one hand, he appreciated it. But he felt so...uncomfortable in his own skin now, and unwilling to be forced to face, for once and all, the fact that things were different.

Nestled in the corner of his room by the door was some sort of standing sun-lamp that the Ixari had given Lance. The shiny green metal stood out terribly in the room of white and aqua, and his eyes kept drifting over to it as he lay on his bed. Maybe he should turn it on, and get some of that sunbathing in right now. And if it was like a sun-lamp on Earth, it might cheer him up. Not to mention the Ixari had mentioned that he would feel more energized if he did. Maybe then he could face the universe.

Groaning, Lance stood up, and stripped off his clothes, dropping them carelessly and padding over to the sun lamp. His fingers traced over the smooth metal until he found the little panel inset into it. The symbols that popped up were not in English or Altean, but after a moment they shivered, and a poorly translated display appeared over it. Puzzling over it for a moment, Lance jabbed a finger at ‘yellow star’ light, and set a timer. The lamp lit up in a spiral pattern, the various cells of its surface sparking to life and then fluttering out. It took Lance a moment to realize that the shifting light wasn’t too unlike a sunny day through a canopy of trees. The light shifted somewhat, not a harsh constant glow as much as a warm pulsing light.

Lying down, the warmth from the artificial sun made his skin feel tingly, and although he didn’t feel an immediate reaction to the light, he found that he must have dozed off, because the timer woke him up. He flipped over, closing his eyes instantly, and just _lazed_ in the light for a while while it bathed over his front. By the time the timer went off again, he was feeling a little better. But after drowsing in the nude, the plant seemed to have spread out, possibly because of the lamp and comfort. Instead of his usual, Lance slipped into a loose tank top and jeans, and stretched as he stepped out.

He wondered for a moment where Keith was. There was a dizzy upward spiral inside of him at the thought. Probably training. Lance felt a strong urge to head in that direction--now that they were _dating_ that meant that he could ogle his boyfriend openly, instead of slinking around to do it. Not that he had made a habit of it, or anything. But more than once Lance had stepped into the training room’s observation area, just to check to see if anyone was using it, and ended up being captivated by watching Keith. The thought of doing so now, but...up close...it made his cheeks a little warm.

As he was turning in that direction, however, he came across Hunk, humming and walking the other way, a small content smile on his face. When he saw Lance, it grew into a big one, and Lance found himself swept into a hug, his new sense picking up sparks of Hunk’s unabashed happiness. “Hey buddy! I was wondering when you were gonna wake up! I wanted to come wake you up myself, but Shiro said to let you be!” Hunk lifted a hand, a back-pat usually the next step of these hugs, but the hand hovered mid-air before landing weakly on Lance’s shoulder. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No, I haven’t,” Lance hedged, mind still hopefully on the thought of watching Keith get all sweaty in the training room. There was just something about that thought that was _doing_ things to him. “I was actually thinking of heading over to the training room, maybe do a few warm ups. I’ve been on my ass a while...”

“On an empty stomach? Not on my watch. Besides, Keith’s already in there. He might stab you if you try to cut in on his _private time_ in the training room. Remember the last time we tried to cut in?” Hunk grinned, and turned Lance. “C’mon, let me fix you something to eat.”

“Well, I could just _watch_ while he’s training. That way he can finish up and I can maybe, uh, get some clues for one-upping him next sparring day,” Lance offered weakly, but Hunk merely laughed. With an internal sigh, Lance let go of the idea of watching Keith today, although he was going to sometime in the future. Even if it killed him. And besides, spending time with Hunk was hardly a fate worse than death. In fact, it was pleasant to listen to Hunk’s speech, his low voice familiar and comforting.

“So the Ixari gave us a lot of food before we left. They gave us a _lot_ of stuff, to be honest, some of which I have confirmed is not that good for human consumption. But there are these fruit things that I’m looking forward to experimenting with. Coran called them Urrianges. They do sort of have a rind like oranges, and the name is sort of similar, so I’m hoping I can zest them and put it in something. They smell great, though. Wanna help me make something? It’s been a while since we last baked together.”

“Aww, Hunk, that’s sweet of you. You really want me back in the kitchen after what happened last time?” Lance was touched. After the last Kitchen Incident, Lance had been indeterminately banned from cooking. It wasn’t _Lance’s_ fault that all of his cooking skills were hand-me-down recipes where you just _knew_ the right amount. Measuring was not something that happened often in his mama’s kitchen, and Lance cooked just like her: the kitchen more of a barely contained chaos than anything, with two or three pots threatening to overflow, half-finished projects being darted to between frantic stirring.

Hunk made a face, and sliced a hand through the air. “No, you’re still not allowed to cook. But this is _baking_. You can mix stuff for me and help decorate. Let’s just see what we have here...” Hunk turned into the kitchen doorway, and started digging in the food storage. Lance thought of it as a pantry, really, but it held a surprisingly large amount of materials and ingredients. Not to mention the walk-in fridge that was usually packed full of alien ingredients. He watched with interest as Hunk pulled out several bags and containers, before huffing happily to himself. “Aha! Perfect. We can make Urriange Macaroons! I’ve been wanting something sweet.”

“What are macaroons again?” Lance asked, squinting as Hunk started pulling out bowls and machines that looked vaguely like torture devices.

“They’re like...little cookies with, uh, like, sweet filling between them? Soft, they go with cakes. they’re usually colored, like purple, green, pink. Uh, do we still have those eggs from Xobhic IV...?” Lance squinted, trying to think of the dessert in question, but shook his head.

“Like oreos?” he hazarded, and watched Hunk freeze and wince.

“Lance, I swear, I will kick you out again,” Hunk said, turning and foisting a threatening finger to Lance. “Macaroons are _nothing_ like oreos.”

Lance grinned devilishly. “Really? Two cookies with a filling between them? Sounds a lot...like oreos to me--hey!” Lance jerked to the side, dodging the spatula that whooshed right through the air where his head had been. “OMG Hunk, you’re trying to _kill me_ over some dumb _oreos_ I thought you were my _friend_!”

Hunk tossed another kitchen implement at Lance, which clattered loudly to the floor, advancing with a mock angry expression on his face, although it was marred by the grin that spread on his lips. “Did you just say ‘omg’ out loud Lance? And _yes_ come here you little twerp--”

“Yeah, I did, wanna fight about it--eek! Help! Hunk is trying to _kill me_ for calling his cookies the wrong name--hahaha, hey stop--Help! Murder! Betrayal!” Lance squawked as Hunk grabbed him, his seeking fingers tickling mercilessly at his sides. Lance exploded into laughter, trying to shove Hunk away as he tried to jerk away from the ruthless tickling. Hunk knew all of his weak spots, and he was taking advantage of that. Lance was wheezing, with tears streaking out of his eyes by the time he finally gave up, putting his hands up. “I give up! Oh my god, Hunk stop!”

Hunk, with a small chuckle and a ruffle of Lance’s hair, relented, although he stopped halfway through picking up the thrown utensils to smile at Lance. Lance felt his friend’s emotions curl faintly through his mind, and smiled back. “Glad to know you’re glad to have me back,” Lance murmured without thinking, smiling, and Hunk started for a minute, and then nodded, his surprise weakening as Lance lost the little bit of connection he had managed to build up.

“I forgot you had freaky mind reading powers,” Hunk admitted, getting started on carefully measuring out ingredients before handing a bowl to Lance to mix. Lance began stirring without even looking, causing a puff of flour to erupt out of the bowl, making Lance sputter. Hunk chuckled, and started whipping a mixture with one of the torture devices. “How exactly does it work? The Ixari weren’t very keen to talk to me about it.”

Lane hummed uncomfortably. “Well, Its sort of like...feeling how you feel. Maybe. Sort of. Sometimes I just know how someone is feeling. I think its because, ‘oh, their shoulders are like _this_ and their expression is like _that_ ’, normal people-reading stuff. But I could tell how Allura and Coran were feeling, after we got back, and their body language is nothing like ours. So it was more just...really good guesses? I don’t know Hunk, I can’t really control it. Sometimes if I concentrate really hard, I can sort of force it, but most of the time it just sort of...comes and goes.” ‘ _Aside from Keith, that is_ ,’ Lance thought to himself, although he didn’t add that. Hunk didn’t know they were dating yet!

Hunk seemed to accept that answer, though, and their conversation stilled as they combined the “egg whites” and the mixture Lance had created to make the batter for the cookies. Hunk was carefully spacing them out, trying to keep them even, and on a separate cookie sheet Lance mimicked him. While Hunk was busy putting the first tray into the only thing that could be called an oven, however, Lance looked at the last tray, and had an idea.

Hesitantly, trying to ignore the blush that was rising up in his cheeks, Lance carefully laid out several hearts, taking a spatula and smoothing off excess liquid so that they were even. ‘ _Oh man, this is really gay. I’m so gay right now. Making heart-shaped cookies with the full intent of giving them to my boyfriend. Oh boy._ ’ Lance didn’t even bother denying that these cookies were destined for Keith. So he said, almost casually, “There was a little extra batter left, Hunk my man, so I got a little _creative_ with them. These are all mine,” he added, hunching over the sheet and making a mock growl as Hunk looked over with interest.

“Oh, heart-shaped cute. Well, I’m a little hurt that you didn’t make them for me, but I’ll live, I think,” Hunk said, dramatically placing an oven-mitt covered hand on his forehead as the other hand deftly closed the oven and poked at a screen without having to look, setting a timer.

Lance’s special cookies went in last, but there was still more to be done. Hunk made the frosting to go between the cookies, taking a moment to taste the frosting before adding some Urriange zest to the frosting too. Sprinkles and icing--even edible glitter--thankfully existed in space, and for some unknown reason, the kitchen was fully stocked with them. By the time that Lance’s cookies had cooled and were ready to be set together with the icing, the kitchen was a mess, the cookies decorated, and both boys somehow had glitter over most of their fronts. Lance had mischievously streaked it on his cheeks, as Hunk made the appropriate fawning noises, and they were both laughing as the kitchen door slid open.

Lance felt his heart skip a dizzy beat as Shiro, Pidge, and Keith walked into the kitchen. Shiro and Pidge were in front, Pidge babbling about...something to an interested-looking Shiro. But Lance didn’t register any of her words, because his eyes skipped instantly to Keith, and the thrill that rushed through him when Keith’s eyes met his made his insides melt, and the world shake, and Lance was pretty sure that he had frozen, dumbfounded, when a small smile flitted across Keith’s face. Lance was brought abruptly back to reality as the container of glitter in his hand rattled to the counter.

Hunk was giving Lance a _look_ as Lance ducked to pick it up, an eyebrow raising, to which Lance responded with a stuck out tongue. Hunk didn’t seem impressed as Lance shoved the decorated and heavily glittered sheets into his hands, snatched the oven mitt, and grabbed his own heart-shaped cookies, trying to frost them together before Keith could see.

“I thought something smelled good,” Shiro commented, taking a seat at the table, pushing a batter-covered utensil away from him with a finger. “What’s the occasion?”

Lance merely shrugged, but Hunk clapped a hand on his back, “Lance finally being better is the occasion!” Lance jerked forward at the impact--not because Hunk hit him hard, but because he _felt_ the plant pinching from the pressure. Hunk made a noise like he’d stepped on a wet sock, and also jerked away, and Lance felt his plant shifting under his shirt. “S-sorry buddy, forgot that was back there. And I didn’t know it...moved?”

“Uh, yeah they do,” he responded, as Pidge craned her neck to see, Shiro looked down at the table, and Hunk’s expression changed to something moderately disgusted, but too polite to say anything. Keith’s eyebrows shot downward, but Lance looked away quickly.

Lance flushed uncomfortably, aware of eyes on him. He felt the tickle of a vine curling around his neck, _very visible_ over his tanktop, and turned to his heart-shaped cookies. He didn’t _have_ to look to know that all of the paladins were eyeing the bits of leaves and flower-specked vines visible from his loose tanktop--and _why_ had he thought that was a good idea again? He squirmed uncomfortably at their attention, and tried very hard to ignore the uncomfortable silence that had spread out in the room.

Then he felt another tickle--not of a vine, but of a warm hand--Keith was suddenly behind him, disentangling the curled vine from Lance’s neck and smoothing it back under the fabric, his other hand sliding down Lance’s back in a soothing motion, his fingertips tugging at the bits of leaves visible. “It’s rude to stare,” Keith said bluntly. Lance heard something being knocked over--but he was too busy being thunderstruck. Keith’s hands were warm where they lingered on his back and shoulder, one thumb gently brushing over a large flower bud partially covered by cloth. Holy _shit_.

If the silence was uncomfortable before, now it was surprised. Lance turned, some part of him pleased to feel Keith turn with him, hands not moving from their intimate--and somewhat possessive--places. Their hips bumped together, and although Lance wanted very much to _melt_ right here and now, the sight before him was more than enough to keep him grounded.

“What?” Keith demanded of Pidge and Hunk defensively, his grip tightening on Lance slightly. Lance couldn’t help but laugh at Pidge’s expression, quickly shifting from surprise to calculating, and then sly, and had to cover his mouth at the light bulb that practically went off over Hunk’s head. Lance shot Keith a look, and Keith shrugged. Lance raised his eyebrows, and Keith made a ‘ _what can you do_ ’ expression.

“Yeah, is it illegal,” Lance started, savoring the words, “For my own _boyfriend_ to tame my wayward leaves?” He grinned devilishly.

“I didn’t realize Keith was in charge of your _landscaping_ now,” Pidge jibed, raising an eyebrow as Keith turned red. Lance grinned widely, appreciating the splash the announcement had made.

“Woah, woah wait a minute! When did this happen? How am I only finding this out now? C’mon buddy, you can’t just go from pining in secret to suddenly dating without telling your _best friend_ ,” Hunk begged. Lance opened his mouth at the implication that he had been _pining_ , and then scowled. Hunk technically was correct. Damn it.

“Best friend license revoked, you almost killed me over some dumb _oreos_ ,” Lance replied, “I don’t owe you nothing.”

“One, that’s a low blow, and you’re officially banned from my kitchen, two, they _aren’t_ oreos, three, Lance I am gonna _kill_ you if you don’t tell me when!!” Hunk looked to Keith pleadingly. “Keith, buddy, back me up here. You can’t just _hide_ stuff like that, right? I bet you told Shiro!”

Shiro, who looked very much like he had been holding back laughter this whole time, shrugged nonchalantly and reached for a macaroon. “It wasn’t exactly hard to tell,” he said casually.

“I mean, these two idiots have been dancing around their feelings for a while. Let me guess. Keith, you’re the one who confessed first?” Pidge said, also nabbing a cookie before Hunk could swat her hand away. “After all, you weren’t exactly _subtle_ the whole time Lance was sick. I’m just surprised that Lance didn’t spend ten years pretending that his crush was just jealousy and _totally normal_ and _super straight_.”

“I am not gonna sit here while you roast me,” Lance squawked, but to his amazement Keith snickered, and then a small barked laugh slid out of his lips. Lance threw his hands up, disentangling himself from Keith’s--very nice--grasp, and grabbed his cookie tray. “No, no, you should be _defending my honor_ not laughing with the gremlin. I was gonna give you a heart-shaped cookie but nope, no, no, no these are all mine now. Fuck you guys. Hunk you’re never getting this cookie sheet back. Keith, I’m divorcing you.” Keith made a protesting noise, and tried to regain his grip on Lance’s hips again, but Lance nimbly dodged, laughing.

Lance grabbed the sheet of half-finished heart macaroons, and started towards the door, laughing and smiling despite his announcement. _This_ was more like normal, and he couldn’t express how _pleased_ he was that Keith had not only come to his side when he was feeling upset, but also allowed him to tell the others about their relationship. Hunk grabbed Lance before he could abscond with the cookie sheet, and eventually wrangled him into a seat. Lance begrudgingly sat down, and was only appeased by the slowly growing pile of macaroons in front of him, and Keith offering to grab tea for them all to drink.

“I forgot you had a massive stash of tea,” Lance said after Keith rooted through the boxes and tins--one of them was a sphere, and another a pyramid--and distributed teabags to everyone. “What’s this kind?” he asked, holding up the spicy-smelling tea bag Keith had handed him.

Keith glanced at it as he grabbed mugs and filled them with hot water, setting them down in front of everyone--Lance noticed that there were two empty ones with tea bags beside them set at Allura and Coran’s normal seats as well--before returning to the seat next to Lance. “Mmm, that’s Arusian, I think. Its one of the first ones I got, anyways. I think you’ll like it. Steep it for a couple minutes, but not too long. It gets spicy when you overcook it.” He shyly bumped their hands together as he spoke, and Lance jumped at the chance to slide Keith’s hand into his own. Pink burned high on Keith’s cheekbones, but other than squeezing Lance’s hand he didn’t react much. Pidge made an exasperated noise, but the other paladins were more than happy to keep their opinions to themselves.

The tea, as it turned out, was pleasantly spiced, and had an undercurrent of sweetness that went well with the cookies. Keith snorted as Lance dumped some of the alien sugar into the tea, and looked down uncertainly as Lance snatched his plate of macaroons away, a small frown tugging his lips downward until Lance, feeling a little pink in the cheeks himself, replaced it with the plate full of heart-shaped macaroons instead. Lance felt his heart pounding as Keith picked up one, shooting Lance an amused glance, and bit into it.

\----------

As it turned out, behind his grumpy exterior, Keith was a terribly thoughtful boyfriend. In typical Keith fashion, words seemed to escape the red paladin, and Lance found himself on the receiving end of physical and material confessions of love--almost without thinking about it Keith would do little thoughtful things that made Lance’s mouth quirk into a smile, and send happy fizzles through his body for hours. Things like having a cup of Lance’s new favorite tea already made by the time that Lance got out of the shower after group training, or saving extra of Hunk’s baking experiments for Lance. Grabbing things for him roughly the same time that Lance realized that he was too far away to get them. On several occasions, Lance found his armor already taken care of after he finished tending to Blue.

Or the little touches. Keith never directly grabbed Lance’s hand, instead always brushing his knuckles against Lance’s hand, as if asking permission. But now that they were dating, Keith’s hands were almost always touching him--either resting on his shoulder, his hip. It was almost like Keith couldn’t help himself--reaching out to run fingertips on Lance’s shoulder or briefly stroke his hair or arm or leg if he was walking past. Sometimes Lance had to remind himself that, yes, this was real, and _yes_ this was Keith winding himself around his body like a cat.

Lance _loved_ these small intimacies. And yet, his favorite time with Keith wasn’t when they were sparring--as ridiculously hot as it was to see Keith sweaty and with fire burning in his eyes--or when they were cuddling on the couch. It was during his nightly ritual, something he’d done practically since they’d first set foot on the castle-ship. Lance used to, when he couldn’t sleep, or felt nostalgic, or just wanted the comfort, come to the observation deck. Allura had taught him how to access starmaps, and he would pull them up here, staring up through the twinkling, holographic stars and past them, through the thick glass and into actual space.

Keith, sprawled out on the floor beside him, eyes reflecting the countless stars and galaxies before them, with the otherworldly light of the lazily drifting starmap detailing his long lashes, the strong, narrow nose, the contours of his face, his soft lips. Keith, with the blue lights around them lighting up the violet hidden deep in his gray eyes, looking over to him with a relaxed, intimate smile, a softness about him that no one else had seen. Keith, his hand entwined with Lance’s. Keith, slowly opening up to Lance, speaking softly about his time in the desert, or errant thoughts that crossed his mind, and Lance just as softly telling Keith about his home in Cuba and his family, the dreams he used to have.

They inevitably ended up gazing into each other’s eyes, wiggling their way closer to each other, all of the stars of the universe forgotten as they entangled their fingers and curled up to each other. Lance, more than once, thought that, if he was just a little more brave, that he would stretch up and kiss Keith. But the threat of kissing seemed to embarrass the red paladin--each time that Lance found himself breathlessly close to Keith, their noses brushing against each other, his heart pounding and his cheeks flaming, Keith would pull away, his face bright red, clapping his hands over his face.

While Keith’s reactions were cute, Lance felt like he was burning up with the desire to kiss Keith. He was afraid of moving too quickly--after all, the thought of giving up his first kiss to Keith made Lance’s cheeks burn and filled him with sparking energy that hummed through him nervously. And Lance had no doubt that Keith--socially awkward Keith, surprisingly shy Keith--was just as nervous about it. He wasn’t really sure how soon was ‘too soon’, either. All he knew was that he desperately wanted it, and he thought that maybe Keith did too. But there was fear too--what if Keith didn’t _want_ to kiss him? It made Lance feel confused, nervous, and much younger than he actually was. His last and only recourse was the dreaded _communication_ , something that Lance still found difficult, particularly when he was embarrassed or nervous. Or in this case, both.

So one night, while they were curled up, half stargazing, half staring into each other’s eyes, during a lull in conversation, Lance reached up and pressed a hand softly to Keith’s cheek, steeling himself, turning the other boy to face him. Keith’s pale cheeks instantly colored, his eyes sliding half-closed as their gaze met like two sparks drawn to each other. Lance bit his lip, aware of how Keith’s eyes slid down to track the movement.

“Hey,” Lance started, his voice a husky whisper. He _felt_ Keith’s swirling emotions as if he were experiencing them himself--affection, fear, want, nervousness, wariness, _desire_ \--so powerfully intermixed that Lance had a hard time telling which was in the forefront of Keith’s mind.

“Yeah?” his reply was breathy, soft. It did things to Lance’s brain that made it hard to think.

“I, uhm, wanted to ask you something,” Lance breathed, sliding closer to Keith, cheeks burning. Keith’s eyes burned brands onto Lance’s face, fluttering closed for a moment as a sigh slipped out of his lips. Keith tried to turn his head away, color flaring up in his face, but Lance kept his hand in place, blocking Keith’s retreat, and took the plunge. “Can I kiss you?”

Keith swallowed hard, and Lance felt desire warring with fear, jumping through him like a nervous pulse. Keith’s eyes were wide in the dark, pupils blown wide, mouth opening as he tried to speak--throat working but no sound coming out. Lance smoothed a thumb over Keith’s burning cheek, and _felt_ the desire win out, the fear fading. “Lance--I...It’s okay. Yes.” he stopped and reached up, placing his hand over Lance’s on his face, eyes flickering around before coming to rest back on Lance’s face, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I’ve wanted to since--since forever. I just--don’t want to move too fast. I’ve...never...”

Lance didn’t let Keith finish, sliding forward with understanding. Slowly, with trepidation, their lips met. Lance’s hands were shaking nervously, his heart pounding so loudly that he couldn’t hear anything else. And yet. A fire burned where their lips touched, Keith’s lips soft and slightly chapped against his. Lance’s eyes closed, his brows falling down in concentration. He was vaguely aware of the tell-tale sweet scent filling the air around them, and then abruptly Keith moved, pulling back for a breath before capturing Lance’s mouth with his own, his movements inexperienced, but growing more desperate. A soft noise worked out of Lance’s throat as Keith shifted closer, and Keith pulled back with a gasp like a drowning man.

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Keith dipped down again, his breath rushing out as they kissed. Heat built up between them as they slid between soft, loving kisses--occasionally trailing down each other’s necks, peppering their cheeks, even a kittenish peck on the tip of Keith’s nose that made his eyes fly open--and heated, deep kisses. At once point Lance’s tongue slipped out of his mouth and brushed against Keith’s lip, and Keith gasped. Lance slid a hand down Keith’s side, and curled it around to his back, and felt Keith arching under the touch, repeating the tongue movement.

God, this was dangerous, with time blending endlessly around them like the swirling, glowing stars and symbols of the starmap, and beyond them the stars of the galaxy. Fire burned inside of Lance’s lungs and electricity surged through his veins, jolting higher and higher with each noise that slipped out of Keith, or escaped his own lips. Lance was sure he was just as fumbling, just as inexperienced as Keith, and yet what Keith was doing to him was so heavenly, so _intense_ that he couldn’t bring himself to worry about whether Keith was enjoying the kiss, prolonged and lazy, surging with their hands along each other’s bodies. This was _dangerous_ , because Lance could feel himself responding, his mind a blur of _Keith_ , and the sensation of gloved hands sliding over him, despite the layers of clothes between them. He was getting hard in his jeans, and each breath he panted in smelled like Keith, his lips tasted like Keith, and he was going to _lose his mind_ if they kept going.

So Lance pulled back, chest heaving, unable to stop the shiver that worked its way up his spine at the mussed, dark-eyed look Keith shot him, at the dark flush spread haphazardly across Keith’s face and burning down his neck. “Holy shit,” he said, his voice vibrating in his throat, low and almost unrecognizable.

“Yeah,” Keith answered breathlessly, “Wow. That was...” Lance found himself captivated by Keith’s dark eyes, by the way Keith tilted his head slightly before leaning in to recapture Lance’s lips. Keith’s hands came to rest gently on Lance’s chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly. Lance let out an embarrassing noise as one of those hands slid under his jacket and around his back, caressing against the plant, which twitched, and Keith pulled back, “S-sorry!” Like before, it was a strangely _sensual_ feeling, a feeling that made his breath hitch and goosebumps speckle his skin.

Holy shit, Lance was turned on. He swallowed thickly. He could hardly think, but the lightning bolt that had shot through him at that touch was undeniably hot. “It’s okay,” he managed. He was pretty sure all of the blood not curling in his erection was boiling in his face. “It just--surprised me. It feels...good. But we should probably stop. Or--or at least move,” he amended, as Keith’s face fell visibly. “Anyone could walk in on us here.”

Keith’s eyes widened, and he nodded. Lance was quick to push himself to his feet. “Let’s go...continue in my room,” he said, trying not to sound as eager as he felt. His eyes raked over Keith, and Lance felt a thrill of arousal as he realized that he wasn’t the only one turned on by their fumbling makeout session. He was pretty sure that making out with Keith while they both had boners _in his bed_ quite possibly would _kill him_ , but it was a price he was willing to pay for just a little more time of Keith’s lips on his, fire bouncing between them.

Lance was fairly certain that they made the trip from the observation deck to his room in record time, and when Keith playfully pushed Lance onto the bed and crawled on after him, a determined but adorable expression on his face, Lance felt like he might have died and gone to heaven.

Some of the import of crawling over Lance on Lance’s bed must have occurred to Keith, because Lance felt a thrill of realization and then a low throb of _want_ that wasn’t his. Lance bit his lip, already feeling his breath hitch at the very _sight_ of Keith hovering over him, his soft hair fluffed out around them. “I-if you want to stop,” Lance managed, “Or if we go too fast or too far, just say something.”

Keith nodded, and then slowly, carefully, removed the space from between their bodies, sinking down until their lips met again and their chests were pressed against each other, and oh, Lance might have lost some of his hard-on on the way back here, but it was back in full force, Keith’s leg slotted between his and applying just enough pressure to make Lance ache for movement. Keith shifted as their kiss deepened, his tongue testing Lance’s lips before sliding between them, and Lance felt a warm hardness against his hip, making him groan into the kiss.

Keith shivered and his hands spread out over Lance, moving with a desperation that Lance could _feel_ , and quickly Lance’s thoughts began turning to mush. Lance’s hands smoothed out over Keith’s back, stroking and pressing him close, and then he reached down, nipping Keith’s lip as he groped his ass through Keith’s tight jeans. The reaction was instant--Keith made a low noise and rolled his hips forward, grinding himself against Lance’s leg as one of his free hands slid down to grope Lance’s thigh.

“’S this okay?” Keith managed to ask, pulling back and applying pressure to where his hand was slowly creeping between their bodies, closer to where Lance’s dick ached. “I wanna--I gotta _touch_ you.”

Lance stared dumbly up at Keith, so stunningly handsome and _mussed_ over him, face red, eyes dark with lust, hair splayed in every direction, lips pink and shiny from kissing, dick hard and pressing against him. _He_ did this. Lance had made Keith into this burning mess of desire and kisses, and _oh god_ how he wanted to unmake it, watch Keith fall apart under his hands. He nodded, and squeezed Keith’s ass again, appreciating how it was still soft, but how the musculature lent it some firmness, and Keith closed his eyes, head falling to rest on Lance’s shoulder, breathing heavily.

Then Keith’s hand, warm and clumsy, settled over Lance’s dick, and it was Lance’s turn to grind forward, because _holy shit_ was was intense. Keith groped him through his jeans, and he was so hard it _hurt_ and as Keith fumbled one handed with Lance’s jeans, Lance realized that, holy shit, he was going to have Keith’s hand on his dick in the next _thirty seconds_.

He let out a low moan, and tried to still his hips, but each little brush as Keith struggled with the pants made his cock twitch and made his hips jerk forward, which ground Keith’s dick into his hip and made them both shudder. Lance relinquished his grip on Keith’s ass and reached down, helping Keith unbutton his jeans, and then reaching questioningly towards where Keith’s dick was clearly pressed against the confines of his own jeans. Keith bit his lip and nodded, leaning back, and then Lance cupped his boyfriend’s dick tenderly, feeling his pulse pick up at how hard it was, how _hot_ , and how _sexy_ Keith was, shirt still on, pants unbuttoned and hard in his hand.

Lance palmed Keith through his boxers, gently jacking him off through the soft fabric, which made Keith moan, the sound restrained, as if through clenched teeth. With a determined look, Keith slid Lance’s boxers down, watching with hooded eyes as Lance’s cock twitched in the air. Lance was about to do the same to Keith, while his brain was still semi-working, only for Keith to shimmy out of his own boxers, kicking them off. When Keith settled against his side, Lance couldn’t resist, and leaned down to kiss him, sliding his hand down Keith’s shirt-covered stomach, feeling Keith’s dick twitch against his side.

Keith moaned into Lance’s mouth as Lance wrapped his hand around him, which made Lance’s hips jerk forward. God, it should be illegal to sound so _wanton_. Lance teased his thumb against the underside of the head, sliding upwards to caress across the leaking opening before giving an experimental pump. Keith squirmed under him, chest heaving as he gasped, writhing away from the touch--too sensitive.

“A-a little less pressure?” Keith’s voice sounded wrecked, and Lance complied, loosening his grip, with instant results. Keith melted in his arms, and Lance felt like every nerve was on fire, his cock _aching_ for friction, for touch. Thoughtlessly, he ground forward, watching Keith’s eyes flicker open as he felt Lance’s erection grinding against his bare skin. Lance whimpered when Keith’s hand wrapped around his dick, his pace slowing as the overwhelming sensation washed over him. The two of them jacked each other off for several slow moments, their hands matching pace, as pressure and pleasure shuddered through Lance, building higher with each slide of heated skin.

“G-god Keith, you feel so good,” he babbled. “M’not gonna last long if you--ah--keep that up.”

Keith shuddered, and Lance felt him twitch strongly in his hand. Biting his lip, Lance sped up, feeling his breath hitch as he watched Keith’s cock shudder, Keith’s hips snapping upwards on Lance’s downstroke, a breathy, partially restrained moan squeezing out of Keith’s throat. Keith struggled to keep his tempo on Lance’s dick, but it was a losing battle--Keith was crumbling under Lance’s fingertips, and he looked completely strung out. Lance wanted to spur him on, his mind on fire, filled with Keith. He wanted to feel Keith’s cock throbbing, wanted to feel it cum in his hands, wanted to _taste_ it...

“God, you look so _hot_ ,” Lance breathed, and Keith’s eyes widened, his cock throbbing in Lance’s hand--then he gasped, his grip tightening on Lance as his hips bucked upwards, his free hand gripping the sheets, cum spurting out of his cock and dripping down Lance’s hand in a hot splatter. Lance shivered at the sensation, and he lazily stroked until Keith’s hand shot down to stop him. Then, spurred on by his earlier thought, Lance brought trembling hands up to his mouth.

“What are you-- _oh_ ” Keith breathed, wide-eyed as Lance licked up a droplet, his cock giving a visible throb as another drip of cum oozed out of the tip. It tasted _bitter_ , and Lance wasn’t sure that he’d like it normally. But right now, with his dick throbbing in Keith’s hands and his brain melting and burning and every nerve in his body singing with lust, it felt so _dirty_ , so Lance repeated the gesture, licking his fingers while maintaining eye contact with Keith. Keith, whose mouth had fallen open, reverently staring up at Lance as if he’d never seen him before. Lance’s cock jumped--it shouldn’t feel so good to be so _filthy_ \--but he couldn’t stop to process that, because Keith’s hand was moving around him again, and Lance couldn’t keep his eyes open for a second longer, succumbing to the sensation. He wasn’t even able to put words in his mouth--breathy gasps and moans were all that could slide between his lips, until Keith pressed their lips together once again, a hot, messy, aggressive kiss that tipped Lance over the edge. He thrust upwards into Keith’s hand, needy noises spilling out past their kiss until he came, his cum spilling hotly against his stomach, gasping out Keith’s name, and falling bonelessly back onto the mattress with Keith pressed up against him.

Stars literally swum in front of Lance’s vision as he came down from the afterglow. “Was that as good for you as it was for me, baby?” he jokingly asked, reaching out to stroke Keith’s hair with his clean hand. Keith leaned into the touch, but didn’t respond aside from a nod. Lance stretched over his boyfriend to grab tissues, wiping his stomach off with a sigh, and then offering Keith a tissue. “Gotta clean up, babe.”

“Ugh,” Keith breathed, sitting up and grabbing it. “I think you broke me. That was. Intense.”

“Did, uh, you like it?” Lance breathed, suddenly worried. “Not too fast?”

“Fuck, yes. God, Lance, that was better than anything I’ve ever dreamed of before.” Keith wiped himself off and then flopped back down onto the bed. “I came in like, twenty seconds, I swear.”

“So you _have_ dreamed of it?” Lance teased, smiling and leaning down to kiss Keith. God, he would never get tired of kissing Keith. He didn’t mention his own--probably abysmal--stamina. That would come...with time. He felt a curl of renewed arousal for a moment, at the thought of doing that _again_ , but it was too soon to get it up again, and Lance was getting sleepier by the moment.

“Usually in my fantasies we’re naked,” Keith admitted, tugging at his shirt ruefully. “Not that I minded the uh...” he motioned vaguely. “Any of it, really.”

“Next time, I’m gonna love you so good and slow,” Lance promised seriously. “I’ll show you that Lance McClain is the best lover in the _galaxy_.”

Keith snorted weakly, and reached up to tweak Lance’s nose. “God, I love you, but one handjob doesn’t make you Casanova. Maybe blow me next time, and we’ll see.” Keith didn’t seem to notice what had slipped out, but _Lance_ certainly did.

His heart jumped, and he froze. Then a smile spread across his face. “You said you _looove me_ ,” he said, sing-song, grinning stupidly. Keith turned tomato red, and tried to backpedal, scowling, but Lance just kissed him soundly. “No take backs! My boyfriend loves me!” Lance bumped their foreheads together, and smiled sweetly, tone softening. “I love you too, Keith.”

The angry expression melted off of Keith’s face instantly, and when they kissed again it was sweet and lingering.

“Hey, can I...stay here tonight?”

“Well...we already fucked so...knock yourself out.”

“Lance! We didn’t _fuck_!” Keith protested.

“Oh really? Well baby, you sure rocked _my_ world, and I feel _very_ fucked, thank you. It counts.”

“Oh my god.”

But despite Keith’s groans, there was a smile, and they changed into pajamas and curled up together on Lance’s bed again. Lance had to admit that he’d missed Keith’s arms around him--he had been spoiled that first night, he thought, waking up to Keith. But here, lazy and satisfied in his boyfriend’s arms, Lance found sleep easily, Keith a comforting weight in his arms. It was a little awkward, the way they were laying--Lance sprawled out on his back, body curled slightly towards Keith, with Keith facing Lance, head resting on Lance’s outstretched arm, with Lance’s other arm curved over him lovingly. And yet it was perfect.

“Love you,” he mumbled, feeling a warm feeling in his chest as he uttered the words, knowing he meant them with all of his heart and soul.

“Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh guys. This is the end of the actual fic itself. It turns out a lot less...smutty than anticipated.
> 
> Because of that, Chapter 9, the final chapter, is going to be an epilogue JUST filled with smut and sexy things. The sex scene here is...sweet and very awkward--I tried hard to make both of their inexpertise really show, and make it analagous to first times in general--but hardly the hard fuckin that I love to write. So the sex might be a little awkward, if only because I rarely ever write characters _making love_ as opposed to just going at it like sex deprived rabbits.
> 
> Thanks again to all of you guys commenting and bookmarking, you've kept me striving to complete this, my first multi-chapter fic EVER, and you motivate and inspire me to continue writing. I've loved this ride, loved writing this monster ( _60 thousand words?!?_ ) and I cannot say how happy I was to see returning faces commenting on each chapter. ♥
> 
> The next thing that I'm working on will be a very different sort of thing from this; I've already got the first couple of chapters outlined and have been dying to get started on it. Very dark, very smutty, less endless internal angst and more direct external angst. It'll be a Galra!Keith Altean!Lance arranged marriage AU Space Opera and I hope those of you that enjoyed this will also check that out if its your cup of tea.


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